


just let me adore you

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Athlete!Sakusa, Coming of Age, Fake/Pretend Relationship, High School AU, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Musician!Sakusa, Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life, Underage Drinking, background bokuaka and sunarin, inspired by To All the Boys I've Ever Loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 67,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: "I'm askin' for a favor," He flashes Sakusa a carefree smile, "I was wonderin' if you'd be my fake boyfriend for the year? Or at least until I can get a one up on Sumu."Sakusa immediately recoils, shuffling away from him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 136
Kudos: 1029





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i thought about making this a to all the boys AU but i didn't really follow the plot past a certain point so it's inspired by that now.
> 
> -clutches laptop tightly- tbh i just hope this is well received. i never went to an international school and i'm not american so hahaha... Gravol is a north american thing right? right??
> 
> mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, weed and drugs

"Make some friends, okay?"

Sakusa glares at his sister traipses off to John Hopkins in pursuit of a medical degree.

He kicks the ground, their father fighting tears as he buys some last minute Gravol for Hiromi's flight east over at the pharmacy at the corner, "You're such a liar, you told me you weren't following dad's footsteps yet here you are."

Hiromi gives him a small smile, tucking the curls behind his ears. It's a trait they all supposedly got from their mother who died when Kiyoomi was born.

Sometimes, when his skin feels too tight and he lies in his bed wishing for comfort, he wonders what it was like to have a mother.

But he supposes you can't miss something you never had.

"I'm serious. Try to put yourself out there."

Sakusa turns his gaze to their father who is snotting all over his credit card as the cashier hands it back to him. The cashier hands him several tissues, looking around frantically for assistance or perhaps a family member hovering nearby.

Hiromi sighs, she doesn't move, "And try not to get too prickly around him. Everyone has flown from the nest and you're the only one left—"

"I know," He cuts her off, curling his hands into fists inside his jacket, "You've said it at least twenty-seven times at this point."

He supposes it makes sense why Hiromi picked medicine. She was the only one finely attuned to her emotions and good at expressing herself, a quality needed for medicine. Naomi buries her head in research papers, Hitomi is awkward and prefers to run away and he snaps at people when they get touch him. It's a wonder how their father hadn't walked out on them with the amount of chaos he had to deal with when they were all living under one roof.

The line had been drawn recently. In an envelope in their dad's study are invoices for tax filing reasons for Sakusa's therapy sessions.

"Here."

He looks down to see Hiromi unzip the front zipper of her suitcase to pull out a carefully wrapped rectangular object in butcher's paper and twine.

"Did you bring a present all the way to the airport and then decide to give it to me?"

Hiromi ignores him, "It's a journal. Sometimes I find it helpful writing things down to organize my thoughts—" She quickly grabs holds up a finger when his face squishes into a frown, "—I know you're going to make that face, but hear me out."

He begrudgingly looks into her eager face, remembering all the times she tried to get him into bullet journaling. Their house exploded with Muji pens and highlighters and washi tapes and other stickers last summer.

"I'm listening."

"Treat this like me," She wiggles her arm into her rain coat, a typical black one that hints of sports origin, not the fancy ones where she would wear for a date, and touches the sleeve of his arm, "When you need to talk to me and I'm three hours ahead or stuck cramming for an exam...pretend I'm the journal."

Hiromi is only a year older than him. His older sister Naomi is twenty-six and Hitomi is twenty-three. Naturally, the older two didn't get too close to the younger two due to their age difference, so he only really had Hiromi next to him growing up.

He sighs again, darting his eyes away from her dark ones in an attempt to stop her from reading his face.

"Thank you," He pulls the twine off and touches the soft leather cover, entirely black save for a single, pressed gold star in the center. A smile on the corner of his mouth appears as he flips the cover open. He's surprised this isn't from Muji.

The pressure on his arm disappears. He looks up to see Hiromi blinking quickly, jerking her head up to stare at the lights above them.

Wordlessly, he pulls out a packet of tissues out of his pants, handing it to her without a word and turning away as she blows her nose.

That's when their father comes back, eyes and nose red, blinking rapidly and telling Hiromi that she must text them when she lands safely in Boston. He openly starts crying again as he hugs his youngest daughter, Sakusa standing off to the side. He watches Hiromi nod as their father re-iterates stranger danger, the importance of always having pepper spray on her, how her elbows are a lethal weapon if there comes a need for her to self-defend, and to always let her roommate know where she's going.

The announcements chirps above them. Her plane is going to leave soon.

"Be safe," Their father kisses her forehead. 

"Bye Dad," Hiromi sniffles, "I'll be okay! Promise!"

When he pulls away, Sakusa shuffles forward, dragging his sneakers on the ground. To Hiromi's and their father's surprise, he squeezes her shoulders with his bare hands, feeling the slippery material of her rain coat.

It's as much of a hug she's going to get. He clears his throat, pulling his hands back, "Remember to message us."

Hiromi smiles, "I will."

She drags her carry-on with her, going to the counter and handing over her passport. Sakusa feels his father stand next to him, seeing his greying temples from the corner of his eyes.

She doesn't turn around to wave at them again.

Father sighs, sniffling and putting the car keys in his hands and offering it to Sakusa, "You can drive."

Sakusa does that, putting his focus on navigating home as his father stares outside the windows, the car entirely too quiet without Hiromi gushing about journals and books.

He doesn't know what category he falls under in school.

He's does fine in sports but never gravitated towards a specific team so he's not part of that social circle. He does well in all his subjects but not enough that he's the top student in every class. He likes books and would probably spend his lunch times there if it weren't for the fact that the librarian thinks he's too pale and kicks him outside to be in the sun.

He used to spend his lunches with Hiromi. She's well liked, her friends tolerated his presence and he gets along fine with them, so much that they even invite him to the mall after classes end or to the beach during summer holidays, but he draws the line there, not wanting to intrude.

He releases a massive sigh the moment his father stops taking his picture.

"What's wrong?" His father holds out his hand for the little blackboard he was holding. It says _Kiyoomi, 17, First Day of School!_

"Nothing," He mumbles. He sees their neighbor's door across the street open, a fellow classmate who also goes to his school stepping out. In an attempt to not make awkward eye contact, he quickly says, "Bye, have fun at work."

His father says something about making friends as Sakusa enters the old Jetta that was handed down from Naomi to Hitomi to Hiromi to him, peeling out of their driveway as the old car grumbles. It's a testament to how badly he hates talking to schoolmates that he completely forgot about his hatred for driving.

He pulls into the student parking lot and decides that he'll go for a drive during lunch time, pulling on his backpack and sighing as the sun continues its trek up into the sky.

Since this is an international school, his locker neighbor is a half Chinese, half South Korean who was born in Berlin but lived most of her life in Canada before her father got a job nearby in the next town over. Her name is Sabrina and she tells him that their school orchestra is looking for some strings among the babble of French, Russian, Cantonese and English around them.

"Because you know," A roll of her eyes, "People come and go all the time. Please come back, Kiyoomi! We really need you."

He gives her a twitch of his lips, stuffing his gym clothes back into his locker and pulling out his backpack to check that he has his Spanish textbooks, "How's the sops?"

"A pain, I wonder why I agreed on being section leader," She pulls an AP French book out, grinning when he raises an eyebrow at it. "What? The Miyas are taking Japanese, Avni is taking Hindi, they can't tell me I can't take French because it's the second official language of Canada."

"Cheater," He teases. Four years of being her locker neighbor allowed him to feel comfortable as they rub elbows together, squished as classmates flood the hallways. 

It'd been awkward at first, because he would try to switch his books as quickly as possible while she tried to say hello or ask him how his classes are before he ran away to sulk behind his sister like a disgruntled shadow.

Through sheer stubbornness, lots of patience and a google search of all the scary diseases you can contract from bacteria, she showed up one day, marched straight to her locker and unearthed a Costco-sized one gallon bottle of hand sanitizer from her backpack, presenting it to him.

_("So...you avoid touch because physical contact is one of the vectors of disease transmission?" He can see confusion in her eyes. And also pain because she just had gotten her braces tightened an hour ago._

_He nods, already stiffening in preparation to hear her laugh or call him odd._

_"_ _Okay, that makes sense! I'm sorry if I do bump accidentally into you though, it's kinda crowded when we're doing from fifth to sixth period....")_

"Go take Japanese, Kiyoomi!"

"No."

"CHEN!"

They both turn their heads, seeing a gangly teen wave his arms over the crowd.

Sabrina sighs, "I'll see you later, Miya probably wants to ask if the marching band can attend his games."

"My condolences," She laughs before waving, her head not even reaching Miya's shoulders as she tilts her head directly up to speak to him. He can hear her all the way here, asking why Miya doesn't _just go ask a marching band person because she's in orchestra and choir and they're not the same thing!_

He turns his head away when Miya tilts his head up to lock eyes with him, blinking at him as Sabrina continues to hiss, heading for Spanish.

He looks at the selfies Hiromi takes with her classmates, already making so many friends within her first week of school and joining something called the Undergraduate Society of Pre-Med. He sits by the little window nook of his bedroom and smells curry wafting from one of the houses before the air is replaced with the scent of ginger and scallions.

His father's voice floats between the space of his half-open door, "Kiyoomi?"

He grunts, pausing the video clip he has to translate for Spanish.

"I'm going to take the box to the donation center, is everything in here things you want to give away?"

Sakusa remembers Hurricane Hiromi going through the house a month before her plane is set to depart. She ended up packing five boxes of old clothes that she never wears anymore and one medium sized box of her old toys for a shelter, needling the two men in the house to clean their rooms as well.

Sakusa produced one box of old clothes. Their father shook his head, stating that he can't depart from the ugly ties their mother had given to him.

"Yeah," He calls, hearing his father stomp down the stairs. A few minutes later, the nice car outside pulls out, heading towards the city proper.

"Hey, Sakusa?"

Sakusa looks up from the wheel, about to stick his key into the Jetta to see Miya Atsumu give him a tight, fake smile. His voice sounds warbled through the glass, so he sticks the key in and lowers the window slightly.

He warily asks what he wants.

"Got a minute?" The tone is too casual, a thumb jerking to the courtyard full of trees near the tracks where the cross country team is stretching before they attempt to run around a nearby trail. Sakusa can see the track and field team come back from their lap around the school grounds, splitting off into pairs as they collapse on the grass, face flushed.

He pulls his keys from the engine and climbs out of his car.

Miya leads him, the sun turning his poorly bleached hair into an uglier shade of yellow-orange reminiscent of Garfield's fur. Sakusa wants to ask if he's ever heard of purple shampoo but refrains from doing so because it's rude and he's never spoken to Miya in his life.

"Don't you have practice?" He asks instead.

Miya's head whips around, blinking in surprise, "How'd you know?"

Sakusa points to his gym shorts. And their school t-shirt he's using as a practice shirt. He was wearing skinny black jeans earlier in the day, ripped at the knees with the black strands hanging over the tanned skin of his knees.

"I've told them to do drills without me," Miya airily says, looking left and right as they enter the courtyard. They're the only ones here, and Sakusa's stomach is starting to do weird flips, wondering what the hell the captain of the lacrosse team wants.

He wonders if he's trying to get him to join the team. All of the sudden, people seem to realize that he's club-less and are asking him to join something or the other.

"Look, I'm very... _flattered_. I think yer cute and all even though we've never spoken?" Miya frowns slightly as Sakusa blinks, wondering if he's gone deaf or having auditory hallucinations, "But erm, I don't really know you at all so. So you can see where this is going right?"

Sakusa commits this to memory, because this is the strangest thing he's ever sat through. The sun is shining above, but they're protected by the canopy of the trees around them, their leaves yellowing from the heat. Miya is fiddling with a photo in his hand, the front hidden from Sakusa's eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He finally says, frowning.

Miya blinks, then he makes a face, "If ya didn't want to talk about it, you coulda just said so."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," He stands, watching Miya's eyes travel up and the satisfaction when he has to tilt his head up slightly. So Sakusa's the taller one.

Miya is obviously bothered, because he puffs up like a puffer fish, waving the photo in his hand, "About this! This thing that was delivered to my house!"

Sakusa snatches it out of his hands, looking at a picture of he and his siblings when they were quite small, holding up chalkboards that say _Kiyoomi, 10, First Day of Gr. 5!_ , _Hiromi, 11, First Day of Middle School!,_ and _Hitomi, 17, First Day of Senior Year!_ with their house when it still had the old paint job in the background. A scrawl he recognized as Hiromi's had written "Miya Kiyoomi" with an arrow pointing to his head in a slightly smudged, blue ballpoint ink.

He feels his cheeks erupt with a blush, remembering the massive crush he had on the other twin. Osamu had attended Japanese School with him on Saturdays. Kiyoomi crushed silently for exactly two months before Hiromi became his confidant. 

"This is a misunderstanding," He pushes the photo back to Miya, glaring up, "I'm leaving. I don't have a crush on you."

He gets pulled back when Miya puts his hand on his wrist, tugging him. Sakusa glares at his wrist and Miya immediately releases him, putting both hands in the air in the international sign of surrendering.

"Sorry! Sorry! I know you have that thing!—"

" _Yes_ ," He hisses, knowing that people talk behind his back, because what is high school without one black wolf among a herd of sheep? " _That thing_."

"—M'not making fun of it!" Miya pushes, his Kansai accent showing through. Sakusa flinches when he can see spittle spray out of his mouth, "And wha'dya mean you don't have a crush on me? Who the hell writes their crushes' last name like that?"

Sakusa wants to punch him, blood suddenly boiling with how much he wants to let his fist fly out and make contact with Miya Atsumu's stupid face. Why is he so _loud?_ Why is hair like that? And how can one face inspire murder in him while the same face, belonging to a different person, makes him sigh forlornly?

"Hang on," A light bulb must have turned on as Miya blanches, "Yer not talking about Sumu are you?"

Osamu, captain of the basketball team, the unfortunate twin of Atsumu, sadly doesn't share any classes with Sakusa this semester and is dating a fellow basketball player. He's clearly off limits since the day Sakusa saw them holding hands on the morning of homecoming last year.

"Goodbye, Miya," Sakusa rolls his eyes, hearing Miya yelp behind him as he sprints forward and blocks him from taking another step by spreading his arms wide.

"Wait!"

"I'm late to work," Sakusa lies, side-stepping Miya as he lets his long legs stretch. He always walked at a slower pace with his sisters and father, who are all shorter than him.

He unlocks the car and sticks his key in, checking his mirrors before peeling out of the student parking lot. His face have recovered, but his ears are still hot and when he gives the courtyard a passing glance, he can see Miya stand at the where he left him.

_1 new message request_

Atsumu Miya [17:23]: can we can talk after your work is done  
Atsumu Miya [17:23]: sorry if you're late, i can explain myself to your boss if they're angry  
Atsumu Miya [17:23]: i didnt know you got a job

Sakusa looks up from spaghetti noodles he's trying to de-clump from the bottom of the pot as his father sweats profusely over the pot of ragu. 

"You have a shift tomorrow, right?" His father is referring to Sakusa's Tuesday and Saturday shifts at the local Kumon.

He nods, poking the clumped noodles with a long set of cooking chopsticks and wondering if he should just boil a new pack since the one his father put in is beyond saving. He feels his phone vibrate again to see another message from Atsumu.

"Is that a friend?"

Sakusa turns, intending to walk to the pantry closet and pull a new pack of pasta. Instead, he sees his father's face beam.

"Yeah," He lies, slipping his phone into his pants. He sticks his head into the darkness of the pantry, allowing the cans of beans and various boxes of granola bars to see his shame spread over his face, "What do you want, Otou-san? Penne or linguine?"

"Penne."

Me [17:57]: where did you get the picture  
Me [17:57]: im free rn

Atsumu Miya [18:19]: idk man, a family friedn works at the donation center when she foun d this between some books  
Atsumu Miya [18:19]: she thought it was cute so she showed it to mom  
Atsumu Miya [18:19]: then mom showed it to me and asked if you're that kid that went to japenese school on sats when we were little  
Atsumu Miya [18:19]: and i said ya

* * *

Me [18:23]: HIROMI  
Hiromi 💉 [18:23]: KIYOOMI  
Hiromi 💉 [18:23]: why are we yelling?  
☕☕☕ [18:23]: 👀  
Me [18:23]: DID YOU FORGET THAT YOU TOSSED A BUNCH OF OLD PICTURES INTO THE DONATION BOX? PICTURES THAT YOU SCRIBBLED ON WHEN WE WERE YOUNGER? SPECIFICALLY OF ONE WHERE YOU WROTE 'MIYA KIYOOMI' WITH AN ARROW POINTING AT ME

☕☕☕ [18:25]: LMFAOOOO  
☕☕☕ [18:25]: hiromi you goofed up  
☕☕☕ [18:25]: wait who's miya? am i too old to remember your friends?

Hiromi 💉 [18:26]: omG did i???? I'M SO SORRY  
☕☕☕ [18:26]: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣  
Me [18:26]: MIYA ATSUMU CORNERED ME TODAY AND ASKED IF I HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM  
🗽 Tommy [18:26]: 🙊  
🗽 Tommy [18:26]: that's spicy, thanks for watering my ears

☕☕☕ [18:27]: 😂  
☕☕☕ [18:27]: 😂  
☕☕☕ [18:27]: 😂  
☕☕☕ [18:27]: 😂

Hiromi 💉 [18:28]: STOP IT, NAOMI  
Hiromi 💉 [18:28]: kiyoomi?  
Hiromi 💉 [18:28]: 😰 kiyoomi, i'm so sorry, i thought i pulled out all of the pictures in that album i wanted to donate  
Hiromi 💉 [18:28]: kiyoomi?  
Hiromi 💉 [18:30]: kiyoomi? 😢 talk to me

Hiromi 💉 [20:30]: 🥺 i'm sorry

* * *

Atsumu Miya [20:49]: helo?  
Atsumu Miya [22:13]: ??????

* * *

☕☕☕ [23:49]: hey omi, ik you're asleep but i'm flexing my oldest sister status now and asking you to not be too harsh on hiromi, ok? she's really sorry about it  
☕☕☕ [23:49]: i'm going to tokyo for a conference at the end of the month, let me know if you want anything specific and i'll ship it!

* * *

"Ya look like shit."

Sakusa glares at Miya as they both lean against their cars— Miya is leaning against his. Sakusa is just standing; he doesn't remember when he last washed the Jetta and it's quite dusty.

"What did you want to talk about?" He grumbles, feeling like his head is fogged up. He woke up at three after several futile hours of staring at Naomi's message and decided to call Hiromi, who cried and sniffled her way through her morning jog and well into breakfast as Sakusa catches several odd looks thrown in her direction during their FaceTime.

"I'm askin' for a favor."

Sakusa frowns.

The twins apparently have a long lasting bet where they try to out compete each other in happiness. This came from a long and convoluted back story Sakusa zoned out on, only nodding and mhm-ing at the right places as Miya talks and talks and talks, staring at the small mole on the shell of his right ear.

"And basically," Atsumu comes up for air, halting in his speech as he flashes Sakusa a carefree smile, "I was wonderin' if you'd be my fake boyfriend for the year? Or at least until I can get a one up on Sumu."

Sakusa immediately recoils, shuffling away from Atsumu. 

Atsumu glares, putting his hand on his hips. He's wearing one of his skinny jeans again with a black undershirt and a red plaid button up that's left open to reveal the tanned skin of his collarbones and chest. He has a leather bracelet around his right wrist and a pair of black Keds.

"Why're ya inchin' away from me? M'not even touchin' you!"

"Why are you so obsessed with outdoing your brother?" Sakusa wonders if he can Purell Atsumu's twisted personality. His other locker neighbor is the goalie for the boy's lacrosse team and often tells Sabrina what a tyrant Atsumu can be during practices. "Why does it matter if he looks happy with Suna?"

Atsumu sighs, hands migrating to cross themselves at his chest, "You wouldn't understand. It's a sibling thing."

"I have three sisters and you don't see me trying to one-up them," He says dryly.

Atsumu blinks, " _Three_ sisters? The other two are older I'm guessin?"

"Naomi is a researcher in England and Hitomi is a model in New York when she's not going to other places. They're twenty-six and twenty-three respectively."

"Holy shit, I thought you only have Hiromi. Yer poor dad is surrounded by girls," Atsumu shakes his head in amazement, "Yer ma must've been happy though, right? Three girls to play dress up with and all."

"My mother passed."

The awkward air never came as it usually did when Sakusa tells people his mother isn't around anymore. Atsumu just scratches his hair and blinks evenly, voice softer, "Oh, sorry to hear that, I didn't know."

Sakusa look at his scuffed trainers, making a note to clean it during the weekend since he has work after school today, "So what's in it for me?"

Atsumu looks surprised, "Yer going along with it?"

"Why else am I standing here?" He scathingly asks. "Give me something good, Miya, or I'll leave."

He fully expects Atsumu to come up with something he already has. 

He doesn't need a tutor, he doesn't need connections for a job, he's fully set to graduate with one of the top marks in their year anyway. And he might laugh if Atsumu offers him money in exchange for this, because he has that too. His sisters had all gotten full-ride scholarships and therefore, his father had some leftover money saved up for him, enough to send him abroad if he wishes.

He grips the strap of his backpack, adjusting it as he gets ready to walk away. The white fluffy clouds blocks the sun, a cooling breeze sweeping through the student parking lot.

Atsumu grins, bright. He has nice teeth, Sakusa thinks, though one of his canines is slightly crooked.

"I'll give ya the full senior experience."

Contract

1) ~~no kissing or hand holding~~ arm around shoulder is ok, so is grabbing each other's elbows

2) no snitching

3) IG approved photos go up at least twice a ~~week~~ month

4) sakusa has to attend home games and after parties, **he's definitely not supporting the basketball team**

5) ATTENDANCE TO SKI TRIP MANDATORY

6) atsumu will have to make lunch every friday and give it to sakusa

Sakusa went from a chameleon blending into the wall to one of the most stared at people in the span of a day. And he entirely blames it on Miya fucking Atsumu.

He helps Sabrina pull her metronome from where she tossed it in the shelves as he feels eyes at the back of his neck. He sighs, handing it over to her.

She thanks him quietly, adjusting the black choker around her neck as she gazes at their classmates walking past, not even being discreet as they gossip about how Atsumu strolled into the cafeteria during break earlier with an arm around Sakusa.

"Have fun with orchestra," He says, slouching and pulling his hood up. He intends on taking the long route to his next class, away from the eyes of curious onlookers who need to find something else to stare at.

"Hey, Kiyoomi?"

He turns to see Sabrina smile at him, looking a little lost as she pulls her violin case out of her locker, "It'll stop eventually."

He belated remembers that she endured the same thing as well when she dated Atsumu back in their first year. To what he understands, they broke up cordially after two months of dating due to Atsumu not being the person she thought he was.

He gives her a nod, turning around and taking the emergency staircases to the bottom of the building.

On their second official day of pretend-dating, he spends his entire lunch time at Miya's table, which includes all of the school captains and their respective best friends and or boyfriend/girlfriend. He meets the captains of the girl's and boy's swim, soccer, lacrosse, and basketball team, forgetting their names the moment he gets dragged off to the next set of team captains.

Oddly, none of them offer their hands. They just nod, wave and smile at him politely. For a group of jocks who are always rowdy in the hallways, they're more composed than Sakusa thought.

He also says hello to Osamu and Suna again, briefly striking a conversation about what a shame it was that they don't have classes with each other for their final year here before Atsumu drags him away to meet more people.

By the end of lunch, he's irritated from talking to so many people and stomps to English with a shadow.

Akaashi Keiji gives him a tight smile when he suspiciously glares at him, raising a hand, "We have Liu together."

"Right," He slows his steps down. What do you say to your neighbor who has lived across your house for the last twelve years and never spoken to aside from forced conversations from both needling parents?

"How many APs are you taking this year?"

"Just four, Calculus BC, AP Spanish, Electricity and Mechanics. I did the other sciences last year."

Akaashi hums, the onigiri keychain swinging from his backpack as he goes up the stairs, Sakusa trailing behind, "Have you thought of where you want to go to yet?"

"No."

It's silent for the rest of their trek to the English wing. Akaashi doesn't say anything to him as he goes to the other side of the classroom. The whiteboard up front has large, serial killer letters written in Expo Marker Red, their teacher clicking around on his computer. It must be movie day today.

2ND BOOK REPORT DUE AT START OF CLASS. LATE ASSIGNMENTS = 30% DEDUCTION

Sakusa slouches over to Liu's desk to hand in his paper on The Great Gatsby when the whispers start up again. He yanks his hood up on the way back to his desk, glad that he sits in the furthest corner next to two walls.

"Kiyoomi!" Liu barks, on his way to the light switch as he flicks the lights off, "No hoods or hats!"

He growls as he tugs his hood back down, irritation threatening to overwhelm him when he sees several girls with terrible face-and-neck-foundation-blending attempt to take pictures of him.

"Bianchi, Piorier! Phones away or I'll take them!"

He finds himself smiling as Liu barks again, crossing his arm and watching Leonardo DiCaprio appear on screen.

He wakes up to see Atsumu awkwardly sitting in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood and holding a cup of water that says 'I <3 NYC'.

"Why are you in my room?" He groans, rolling over and checking to see that it's sunset hour. His father must have let him in.

"There's a party today," Atsumu tightly smiles, "Remember?"

Sakusa curses into his pillow, his Sunday evening plans ruined. He tells Atsumu such as he shuffles over to the bathroom he used to share with Hiromi, splashing his face with water as he rubs all traces of his afternoon nap away.

"You met my father?"

"Yes, er...I only said I'm your friend, if that...helps."

"He'll ask questions later," He says, padding out of his bathroom with a quick snail mask rubbed all over his skin. If there was something his sister told him about his mother, it was her great beauty. And as a child, he only copied his sisters when they take turns slathering avocado masks on each other because he wanted to feel included but the habit stuck and he liked pampering himself now.

He peers into his closet as Atsumu chokes.

"Oh my god yer wardrobe _sucks!_ " He smells Atsumu's body wash or whatever stupid cologne he sprayed on himself. Thankfully, it smells vaguely like the ocean which is leagues better than having pine needles shoved up his nose and wondering why his seatmate in Spanish would voluntarily use Axe.

Atsumu doesn't touch his hangers but he's shaking his head like Sakusa is the biggest disappointment in his life, "I'll drive ya over to my house, I can't let you show up lookin' like a slob."

"What's wrong with mine?" Sakusa juts his chin forward. "And I'm not wearing _your_ clothes."

"They're clean! You can sniff 'em and smell the detergent yerself! And Omi-Omi, we have to go shopping together, you can't look like a college student who's one day away from needing to do laundry, you have my image to protect!"

Sakusa stomps to his bathroom to rinse the mask off, "I fucking hate this, I'm calling it off."

"You can't call it off just because of clothes! Look Omi-Omi, I'll let you wear yer own pants and whatever shoes ya want but please, yer not wearing a _John Hopkins University_ shirt to the party, tha' just screams pretentious."

Sakusa pats his face dry, slapping toner on his face and grabbing his moisturizer, "I'm surprised you know what that word means, and fuck off with the nickname."

"Holy shit," Atsumu laughs, leaning against the door frame. Sakusa lets his eyes rake up and down as his pretend boyfriend closes his eyes. He's wearing black shorts that exposes the size of his calves and a dark blue V-neck that compliments his sun-kissed skin. "I can't believe I thought you were this quiet, shy kid when ya actually drop F-bombs like it's no one's business!— Oh HELLO!"

Sakusa looks away from his reflection to see that his father had poked his head into his room, carrying two very crispy looking cookies on a plate.

"Otou-san?" He neutrally asks, "What's wrong?"

"Do you need a shirt?" He whips out a simple black turtleneck on a hanger from behind his back, a knowing smile on his face, "I think you should wear those jeans you bought last summer, Kiyoomi. The nice ones. It'll pair nicely with this, right, Atsumu-kun?"

Atsumu nods after giving the shirt a careful look over, "It'll look nice if you roll the sleeves up, but do you overheat easily?"

"No," He says, grabbing the hanger and plate of cookies. "Thanks."

His father turns to Atsumu, the wrinkles around his eyes prominently showing as he grins at both of them, "Have a cookie before you leave."

Then, he shuts the door behind him, his footsteps going down the stairs.

Sakusa hears a series of chewing as Atsumu blinks, "Wow. This is. Very dry."

He smiles down at the lonely cookie, placing the plate on the top of his desk, "Drink some water. I'll be right back."

He finds the nice black jeans he never wears from the back of his closet, going to the bathroom as he puts everything on. The turtleneck is thin enough that he's not over heating yet, but he pushes the sleeves up to his elbows and looks in the mirror at his wild hair.

He grabs some bobby pins from one of the drawers and strategically pins the out of control sections so it looks less like he'd woken up and more like he'd put all the proper products that gives his curls body and shine.

Atsumu is staring at a certain picture taped above his desk when he steps out of his bathroom.

"Yer mom is pretty."

Sakusa steps forward, looking at the last family picture with all of them present. His father's hair is still jet black in this one, arms around Naomi and Hitomi. Hiromi is standing next to a woman sitting on a chair, very clearly pregnant, a kind smile on her lips as she rests one hand on her belly.

"Ya have her hair. And eyebrows."

Sakusa nods, watching Atsumu drink all of the details in before his pretend boyfriend turns and scrutinizes him.

"Ya clean up nicely, Omi-Omi."

"Knock it off with the nickname," He glares.

He stuffs his phone into his back pocket and slips his smallest bottle of hand sanitizer in his front pocket, realizing how tight these jeans are. He shouts that he's leaving, and his father's voice tells him to be careful as he shuts the front door.

"Oh," Sakusa says, watching Miya leap forward, skipping to the 2000 Mazda Miata that looked like it just went through a car wash. "You have the car."

"Whad'ja ya think I do, Omi-Omi?" Miya unlocks the car for him, but for all grandeur, climbs into the seat since the hood is retracted, " _Walk here?_ "

"Your brother isn't going to the party?"

"Rin drove him, perks of having a boyfriend I guess," The car thrums to life, not moving until Sakusa's seat belt has clicked. "If you don't like Omi-Omi, what nickname do ya prefer?"

"How about my _actual_ name?"

"That's boring! How're we suppose ta fool people tonight?" Atsumu grumps, "And by the way, this is obvious but we have to be touchy tonight."

Sakusa suppresses a resigned sigh, "I know," The way the wind plays with his curls reminds him of the one time his father allowed him to stick his head out of the car window many summers ago when their family aren't thousands of miles away, of simpler times, "This is nice."

"Hm?"

"I said this is nice," He raises one hand up, watching the cotton candy clouds and skies between his fingers get darker with each passing minute, "Being driven around and feeling the wind."

"Should I pick ya up for school then? Yer on the way anyway."

Sakusa pauses, dropping his hand as he turns to look at his pretend boyfriend. Atsumu has his eyes on the road, hand relaxed around the wheel. His hair is a softer brass in the sunset, not as offensive as it is during noon when the sun is fully up in the air.

He's not really paying attention to the way Sakusa stiffened, that or he's a talented actor.

"...If you don't mind."

"'Course. Sumu gets rides with Rin anyway."

"And Suna doesn't offer a ride for you too? Hilarious."

"Shut up, Omi-Omi."

"Don't call me that, Bakasumu."

Atsumu screeches, sounding like a pterodactyl inches from death, " _What_ did ya just call me?"

Sakusa suppresses a laugh, but his mouth twitches upward, "Bakasumu."

"Don't fuckin' call me that," If it weren't for the fact that Sakusa is staring at Atsumu, watching the curve of his mouth widen as he grins at the road, he would have thought the threat is real, "Omi omi omi omi omi omi—"

"Shut up! You're so annoying!"

Atsumu laughs, loud and free as he turns, entering a neighborhood with large front lawns and century old trees lining the pavement. The skies disappear, the canopy above thicker and thicker.

"I should've asked earlier, but where are we going?"

Atsumu takes gentle turns along the road, houses with lush gardens and wrought iron gates flashing past, "A house party."

"Are you sure it's a house?" Sakusa deadpans. The homes around them aren't houses anymore, they're mansions.

"Yeah! He's a grad. Don't worry, the usual people will be there, I ain't throwin' ya in the wolves' den," Atsumu turns into a long driveway that boasts a small, gurgling fountain and several cars already parked in front of the house. The mansion is cream white and has pillars. 

It's the type of house Naomi likes to watch as she complains about how she's going to afford a house in the English home-buying market, the ones with the click bait title, usually something along the lines of _Inside a $35M Luxurious Mansion on the Hills with a Beach View_ by Architectural Digest or one of those famous designing magazines.

Sakusa sees a hand wave in front of him, the hand belonging to an arm that's attached to a chest that's attached to Atsumu's neck.

"C'mon, old sport," Atsumu grins, his teeth white in the settling twilight, "They won't bite, promise."

"I want a deluxe karaage set with yakiudon for my lunch, Miya," Sakusa threatens, standing up and hopping over the car door. He feels tiny as they approach the three floor home, the front entrance only sporting a large, thick door with the front light illuminating the dark wood.

"Hang on, can I fix your hair?"

Sakusa nods, spinning around and waiting patiently as Atsumu cleans his hands and carefully pulls his bobby pins out, reattaching them to his hair as he fixes what the wind had ruined. His eyes are very, very amber, Sakusa realizes. And there are smudges below his eyes, hinting of dark circles that are covered with concealer.

He wonders why he has to hide them. Sakusa wears his on his face, it's a part of him, after all, just like how he's a germaphobe and doesn't try to hide it anymore.

"Do you use gel?"

Sakusa closes his eyes, "Pomades."

Atsumu hums, carding his hand through Sakusa's hair, "Okay, open yer eyes!"

Sakusa opens his eyes to see Atsumu hold his phone up, a peace sign thrown to his phone camera. Sakusa reacts too late, hearing the shutter noise go off as Atsumu dances away from the reaches of his leg.

" _Miya!_ "

" _Atsumu_ ," His pretend boyfriend insists, "No one's going to believe it if ya ain't affectionate with me, Omi-Omi."

"I regret every action in my life that has taken me to this point," He tells the skies, watching Sakusa tap away vigorously on his phone. The picture is edited slightly to make the shadows fainter and uploaded to Instagram. He feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, no doubt a notification that he's been tagged in something.

He pulls it out to see the picture himself.

> **not.osamu** we know we cute 

Atsumu is grinning, eyes bright as his bares his crooked, singular canine. Sakusa is pleasantly surprised at the innocent and soft expression he has when he opened his eyes, not yet registering the presence of the camera.

"You suck at captioning pictures."

"How dare you," Atsumu dryly says, "I don't see you posting any pictures _at all_."

"Because I don't give into peer pressure," Atsumu's phone lights up in his hand, the lock screen a self timer picture they took one day after school ended of their backs as they sat on the turf field, Atsumu's lacrosse stick nearby. Sakusa still remembers how Atsumu had baited him to sit on the turf with promises of making him some oyakodon the next day.

"They're wonderin' what's takin' us so long, let's go!"

He opens the door and Sakusa immediately flinches from the loud bass pumping throughout the house, knowing that this will be a very long night.

Amazingly, he has a fun time at the party.

Akaashi is the first person he recognizes at the party, sitting next to the former captain of the boy's swimming team, Atsumu supplies in his ear. Sakusa can't see the former captain's face because he's currently turned away, yelling at someone about something across the room.

Akaashi waves because the music was too loud unless he wants to scream, his eyes darkly lined with brown eyeshadow that made his skin very pale.

"Drink?" Atsumu says, right into his ear.

Sakusa suppresses a shiver and nods, shuffling to the table at the side of the living room where a large glass bowl has a giant chunk of ice surrounded by homemade red punch with seven metal ladles hooked to the side. Next to it are some sodas, bottled water, two entire rows of Perrier and several brands of hard seltzers and lemonades he doesn't recognize.

"Ya don't have to drink if ya don't wanna," Atsumu says, stepping closer to him. Sakusa sees someone bounce off Atsumu's shoulders as he waits patiently for Sakusa to either nod or shake his head.

"I can drink," Sakusa mumbles after a minute of thinking. He's mostly worried about someone accidentally drinking from his cup, but he'll just hold it the entire night to make sure no one contaminates it with their saliva.

"Kombucha?" Atsumu points to a small punch bowl Sakusa missed. 

Sakusa makes a face, "That's gross, do you know how it's made? With a giant chunk of bacteria and yeast that you dunk into brewed tea. Get me punch."

"Yes, yer Highness," Atsumu leers at him when Sakusa takes his first sip, blanching at the vodka that's poorly hidden by a mix of pineapple, orange and cranberry juice, "Not a fan?"

He puckers his mouth, "It's an acquired taste."

Atsumu's laugh is drowned out by the music but he tugs on the fabric of Sakusa's turtleneck, wading through the bodies as they move to another room full of stainless steel appliances. It's slightly less loud here, but he sees several older students who used to go to their high school sitting around a dining table, intensely focused on the game of Monopoly in front of them.

"Are you allowed to do that?" Sakusa hisses, watching Atsumu open a fridge. 

Atsumu nods, slamming the door shut and opening the other side. He pulls out a carton of milk and opens all the cabinets in search for a mug, "I've been here a lot."

"You're drinking milk at a party?" He's not sure what he expected Atsumu to do. He knows that he has a reputation for being fun at parties, but Sakusa didn't think he got popular through chugging a carton of milk.

His pretend boyfriend points to himself, "DD."

"What."

"Designated driver," He explains, pulling the milk out of the microwave, "Yers, specifically. Let's go."

Atsumu steers him out of the main room and into the backyard where there's a pool with a light strip that changes color every few minutes. It's quieter out here with a keg stand nearby, several girls lounging around on pool chairs around an electrical fireplace set on low, a bag of marshmallow passed around them. 

The lacrosse and basketball team seems to have all congregated around the pool, several of them bent over the Foosball table as red solo cups decorate every flat surface. Sakusa catches several of his Spanish classmates sitting on the pool edge, sipping Whiteclaws as they cool their legs off in the water.

"Yo, Captain!"

"Sup?" Atsumu does the half-nod thing every guy in school does, leading him over. 

Sakusa focuses on the flimsy plastic of the cup in his hands as he schools his expression into one of boredom, nodding as the team chirps their hellos. He's met them many times during lunch so it's not as awkward as it used to be.

Sakusa sits next to Atsumu the entire night on a two seater couch no one seemed to be sitting in. It wasn't until much later that he realized the team left it for Atsumu and his guest since there were some people who had to go back inside the house to grab mismatched chairs.

"They're doing shrooms and blunts on the second floor balcony if anyone wants in," A familiar voice says. Sakusa tilts his head away from Suna as they groan about Liu's third book report that's due soon to see Akaashi stand behind him. His eyeliner is slightly smudged and the collar of his t-shirt is rumpled and inside out.

Several people shuffle inside. Sakusa watches as the former captain of the boy's swim team— Bokuto?— stroll out, his shirt also coincidentally rumpled and inside out. How interesting.

"Tsum-tsum, long time no talk," He hands Akaashi a wine glass full of clear liquid, "It's water, Keiji, I ran out of cups. Who's this?"

"Hiromi's brother."

Bokuto's face morphs into an easy smile, "Ah! I remember you, she was in my calculus class."

"Ah," Sakusa hums, for lack of better things to say. His head feels very foggy, "Nice to meet you."

Osamu, sitting on the couch across of them, massaging Suna's calves as his sandals are left on the ground, says, "This guy is in college with a full ride scholarship for swimming, Sakusa. How's your first meet, Bokuto?"

"It went swimmingly," Everyone groans as Akaashi rolls his eyes, finding one of the empty chairs that used to belong to the second string basketball players. "I got third!"

"That's nice, Bokkun," Atsumu says, sleepy and warm from Sakusa's left. He can feel every point where their bodies are making contact, their thighs, their hips, Atsumu's neck on Sakusa's arm that he drapes over his shoulders, sides pressed until there's no more room to move. Atsumu is nice, comforting presence. "But yer shirt is inside out."

Bokuto doesn't blink as he whips his shirt off, rolls it out, and shoves his head back through the neck hole. Sakusa must have had too much punch because he stifles a giggle in Atsumu's shoulder when he catches a glimpse of Bokuto's very muscular shoulder and waist.

Suna grins, "Looks like you got competition, Atsumu."

Akaashi laughs, being plucked out of the chair like he weighs nothing, pulled tight against his boyfriend's chest. Sakusa looks in amazement, having never seen Akaashi so happy and relaxed.

"Catch me up," Bokuto grins in his direction. Sakusa blinks at him, smiling. Another person with beautiful gold eyes. "How did Atsumu nab Hiromi's brother?"

"Secret!" He laughs, everyone blinking at him.

"Omi," Atsumu mumbles into his ear, "Are ya drunk?"

"Noooooo."

The twins and Akaashi laugh. Suna smiles as he asks Atsumu how lacrosse is. The conversation quickly turns into a series of game-specific slangs he doesn't understand, but he watches the stars above him and the design of Suna's Nike slides before he closes his eyes and drifts off to the conversation around them, neck too weak to support his head.

When he snaps awake, there's a definite chill to the air that wasn't there before but he's bundled up in a blanket, his shoes neatly lined in front of the couch he was sleeping on. Osamu and Suna are leaning against each other, drooling but also burritoed in a blanket. Their cups are on the ground, far away from their feet, with their names scribbled in black Sharpie.

His mouth tastes disgusting, and he sits up carefully, finding that his neck is strong enough to hold up his head. The sky isn't spinning anymore.

Atsumu is at the Foosball table in a heated match against the girl's volleyball captain. He hops and raises both hands in the air as Rachel sighs and leans back, clearly the defeated.

Rachel's eyes flits towards the edge of the pool where he's sitting, "Your Sleeping Beauty is up."

Atsumu turns.

The electrical fireplace has been turned to what must it's highest setting, because Sakusa can see the fake flames cast their flickering glow across his face, Atsumu grinning at him as he strolls closer.

"Good sleep?"

"What time is it?"

"Just after ten," Atsumu checks his phone before putting it back in his pocket, "Had a good nap? Ya sleep a lot, don'tcha? Ya were nappin' too when I dropped by."

"It's a school day tomorrow," He slowly swings his legs down, jamming them inside his runners as he stands up. He begins to fold the blanket methodically, his heart still racing as he lingers over the mental image of Atsumu with the fire's glow lighting up his features.

"Right you are, I'll be leavin' first," Atsumu raises his voice. Several of the first string players calls him a grandpa for retiring so early, "By the way, are ya hungry?"

At the mention of hunger, Sakusa's stomach growls. He feels his cheeks heat, placing the folded blanket on the couch. He doesn't feel off even if he must have had his cheek pressed into the fabric of the couch that probably hadn't been washed since it was bought.

There's no nagging alarm bell, no pressing thoughts from his brain to clean himself right now. He feels good.

"Sure."

They spend an hour outside Sakusa's house, their hands and the air smelling like Purell as Sakusa trades his crispy fries for Atsumu's soggy ones. They spend half an hour debating on the pros and cons of soggy fries before Sakusa threatens to throw the Szechuan sauce out of the car.

("This is the first time in seven years I've eaten McDonald's." "What?!" "They forced us to watch Supersize Me!" "Ah okay, makes sense, I forgot about that within a year.")

The air is chilly. Atsumu must be freezing in his shorts and t-shirt but he doesn't show if it if he does, licking the sweet and sour sauce from the corner of his mouth as he carefully dips the chicken nuggets in. 

Sakusa wonders what Hiromi would say if she's here right now, watching her geriatric brother willingly stay past eleven when there's school tomorrow instead of going to bed early.

Atsumu raises the nugget to Sakusa, an offering behind his smile.

Sakusa leans forward and bites half of it. Atsumu's thumb is cold when his lip makes the briefest contact.

Later, after Atsumu promises his mother that he's going home right this instant, Sakusa watches the Mazda drive away, the hood propped up with Atsumu surely blasting the heater over his cold fingers, the taste of salt on his tongue when he runs it over his lips.

He enters the house and sees the television recapping the day's news, his father snoring loudly from the couch. 

Sakusa pulls the afghan from the corner of the couch and spreads it over him, making sure to tuck the edges in so it doesn't fall when he shifts. 

His father blinks when Sakusa's knuckles brush against his neck, "Mmm...Kiyoomi?"

"I'm home."

A large yawn. The afghan falls forward to pool around his waist as Sakusa takes a tiny step back.

"Had fun?"

Sakusa ponders, "Yeah...it was nice."

His father slowly reaches for his elbow, giving Sakusa ample time to shy away. Sakusa watches as the blue light of the TV reflect onto his face, wondering why he looks so happy, "I'm glad you have a friend," A pause, " _Is_ he a friend?"

There it is, "I guess we're dating."

"Invite him over, I don't mind the both of you sitting around the house," The warmth around his elbows disappear. His father lowers his eyes slightly, Adam's apple bobbing, "You can show the albums Okaa-san left."

Sakusa wants to say that's too personal, but he lies again because he wants to be a good son before he leaves for college, "Sure," He checks the clock on the wall, "It's a school day tomorrow. I should sleep."

"Of course. I start night shift tomorrow night, okay? Food will be in the fridge, money for take-out will be in the envelope in the knife drawer," His dad says as they both start moving to the direction of the staircase. The TV clicks off. The living room lights dims.

"Okay," He grasps the cold handle of his bedroom when his father says one last thing.

"Kiyoomi?"

He turns.

His father smiles, turning the handle and entering his room, "I'm glad you found him."

_("Why else am I standing here? Give me something good, Miya, or I'll leave."_

_"I'll give ya the full senior experience."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Yer dad is worried about ya right? I'll bring you to homecoming, parties, integrate you with my friends, take you to movies and dinner dates, the works. I'll make sure you fool yer Dad.")_

He brushes his teeth, uses his toner on a cotton round to clean his face and moisturizes again before falling in bed, dreaming of bonfires by the beach when he was little and how large the skies used to be.

_[A boy deeply asleep leans on someone's shoulder, his curls spreading like ink along a tanned neck. A hand, most likely belonging to the tanned neck, is blocking most of the shot and the boy's face. A blanket is draped around both of them but a peek of someone's navy blue V-neck is visible.]_

> Liked by **sabchen** and **others**
> 
> ******not.osamu** guess this crabby guy is cute when he's asleep 🦀  
> View all 96 comments  
>  **not.atsumu** you're so embarrassing, we're not related anymore  
>  **s_romi** 😵 @modelnaomi @s_tommy ?!?!!?1!!?  
>  **ballisloveballislife** damn  
>  **bokhoot** <3 

There's a hand shaking his shoulder.

Sakusa immediately sits up, feeling the crust around his eyes break apart as he sees Atsumu face half hidden in the shadows of his room, a hand covering his mouth as he draws his right hand— why is it covered in a tissue?— back.

"Yer gonna be late for first period."

"Fuck, you were suppose to drive me," He launches himself off the bed, glaring at his phone that's charging, storming into the bathroom. He slams the door, empties his bladder and decides to cut his morning routine in half, which meant that instead of deep-cleaning his skin with his favorite gentle cleanser, he takes another cotton round out.

After tossing the yellow cotton rounds full of his face oil and slapping moisturizer and sunscreen on, he whirls back into his bedroom, shoving the first hoodie he touches over his head. 

"Who let you in?" Sakusa tries to make conversation. The sun is straining to shine through the overcast clouds.

"Yer dad. He went back to bed, by the way," Atsumu dances out of the way as Sakusa swipes the entire content of his desk into his backpack, zipping it up and yanking his charger out of the wall.

"I'm sorry," Sakusa huffs, Atsumu right behind him as they thunder down the stairs, "I don't know why my alarm didn't ring."

Atsumu shrugs, looking entirely too relaxed as he keeps his backpack and black duffel bag with a lacrosse stick sticking out balanced as he stands on one leg to switch from slippers to his battered, grass-stained runners, "It happens."

There's a thin layer of fog when Sakusa opens the door. He breathes out, breath coming out in faint clouds as he power walks to the car. 

Atsumu blasts the heater on as they zoom to school, listening to the morning traffic. Sakusa presses the lock button, seeing seven notifications from Messenger, five texts and a missed call from Atsumu appear starting thirty minutes ago.

Atsumu doesn't speak to him the entire time to school, making comments to himself after he's done listening to the traffic and switching to an annoying pop station playing the top hits. He sings along as the sun manages to hit his hair, finally turning it blond.

"Right, um," Atsumu starts, giving Sakusa a glance. Sakusa looks up from Hiromi's fifty messages of _YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?_ _AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?_ and its variations.

"Yeah?"

"S'homecoming next week."

Sakusa understands immediately, nodding as he replies to Hiromi, "Sure, let me know what color to coordinate with."

"You've been? I've never seen ya."

"Hiromi is very popular," Sakusa explains, remembering how she was homecoming queen last fall, "I don't care about it but I don't mind going with you."

Atsumu taps his fingers on the wheel of his car, "Thanks, that was easier than I expected."

"What? You expect to drag me while I'm screaming and kicking?"

There's a very serious look in Atsumu's eyes, "I won't ask ya to go if yer not comfortable. There's gonna to be a lot of people and it won't be fun if ya just stay in the corner. In fact, it'll be waste of yer time, I'm sure."

He then turns his head away, putting one arm behind the headrest Sakusa is against as he backs the Mazda into the last parking stall in the student lot. Several students are rushing from their cars towards the building. Sakusa feels an odd pressure around his chest.

"That's okay."

"Just let me know if you want to cancel," Atsumu says, shutting off the engine. He walks out to the back, fishing his backpack and duffel bag from the trunk.

The five minute warning bell chimes. Sakusa is glad his first class is Calculus, the classroom only a hallway away from the main entrance. He moves to go when Atsumu clears his throat behind him, offering several Clif bars in his palms.

"Ya haven't had breakfast right?" Atsumu asks. Sakusa can see his arms explode in goosebumps, the cuffs of his jacket pushed to his elbows as a cold breeze whips past, "Take some, these are the least squished from my bag."

Sakusa stares.

Atsumu wiggles the bars, "C'mon, I know yer hungry."

"...Thanks," He mumbles, grabbing two random flavors. Atsumu makes a pleased sound and chirps how he'll find him during lunch since he needs to talk to his team during break about their next game, patting Sakusa's backpack as he leaves him.

Sakusa's phone buzzes. He kicks himself mentally as he runs after Atsumu, slipping through the door just before it closes, wondering why he's acting like a lovesick protagonist in a rom com.

_"Why didn't you tell me about Atsumu, Kiyoomi?! I'm your closest sister!_ "

"I don't know."

" _Oh my god that's such a typical teenage answer!_ —"

" _To be fair, Nao, he is a teen. How old are you again?_ "

"I'm seventeen, Tomi."

" _Forget about his age! I want all the details! When did you fall for him? How did you get together? Was it because of the picture? Did he ask you out or did you ask him out? Have you met his parents— oh you've must have met his twin right—_ "

" _Wait, Hitomi, he has a twin?_ "

" _Nao, why the heck are you even in this call if you're going to ask who someone is every two seconds?_ "

" _Wow screw you too, Tomi!_ "

" _Hey! It's my turn to speak and ask questions! Everyone shut up_!"

**not.osamu  
** **67** Posts **427** Followers **397** Following

**Atsumu Miya  
** KS 🦀 𝐹𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝒯𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓃𝑜𝒾𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓊𝓇 | Lacrosse | 🚫 Soggy Fries 🚫  
Followed by **not.atsumu** , **akaashi** , **ballisloveballislife** and **21 others**

Was this what it feels like to have a boyfriend?

Atsumu cheers for him from the sides as Sakusa plays against Suna one-on-one, dribbling the basketball as he fakes a lay up and jumps when Suna moves back instinctively, his three pointer swishing through the hoop.

"You should've joined basketball," Suna grins. Osamu yells words of encouragement, sitting next to his twin on the tiny plastic chairs Naomi and Hitomi used to play House with they were little that Sakusa's father fished out from the garage. 

Sakusa shakes his head and laughs, pulling back his curls into a half-ponytail as the twins shuffle forward for their turn. The cement driveway is full of the dollar store sidewalk chalk Hiromi bought several years ago, white against grey to mark the three point line, pink for the free throw line and green for the rectangular box around the hoop.

All four of them clear out as Sakusa's father leaves for his night shift, half an hour to seven. He tells them to help themselves to cut fruits in the fridge and curry warming over the stove if they want. Sakusa smiles with guilt as his father pauses to shuffle he and Atsumu side by side for a picture.

_[Four boys in a black and white picture, a basketball hoop mounted to a two-door garage in the background, are grinning. Two of the boys, clearly twins, are cradling basketballs in their arms as the other two are crouching in front of them, cheeks dark and laughing at the camera.]_

> Liked by **akaashi** and others

> **ballisloveballislife** got rekt, @s_yomi pls join bball, we need your precision and height  
> View all 12 comments  
>  **r+choi** :0 someone get captn  
>  **not.osamu** NO. HE BELONGS TO THE LACROSSE TEAM  
>  **not.atsumu** @s_yomi yer in  
>  **s_yomi** ty  
>  **not.osamu** TRAITOR

Atsumu invites him to more parties that ends past midnight with them sitting in drive-thrus, licking salt off their fingers as Sakusa motions to the sweet and sour sauce on the corner of Atsumu's mouth.

Akaashi ended up winning homecoming king, politely dancing with the queen as the yearbook committee swarms forward to take pictures. Atsumu is content on not winning, matching with Sakusa as they both hang near the snack table with black dress shirts and pants.

His father brings the twins over every week for dinner, the gramophone in the corner playing Junko Ohashi's greatest hits as he flips through albums— Sakusa is reduced to a pile of stiff embarrassment and kicks Atsumu repeatedly on the shins as he asked if he could take a picture of Sakusa's baby pictures.

"Our parents like Junko's songs as well," Osamu comments after cackling at the bruises Sakusa manages to give Atsumu.

"This is Akemi's favorite album," His father grins, looking down and tracing his finger on a faded picture of he and Sakusa's mother dressed in traditional wedding kimonos. He looks up as Sakusa clears his plate away, fiddling with the pager clipped to the V-neck of his scrub top, "Did you know? Kiyoomi looks the most like Akemi out of all my children."

Atsumu hums, leaning forward to gaze at the faded picture carefully, "My Kaa-san says sons resembles their mothers the most. Akemi-san's very beautiful."

Osamu gives Sakusa a small, knowing smile. Sakusa presses his lips together, balancing the plates and place mats to the kitchen, patting his hot cheeks once he's alone in the presence of the humming fridge.

"You two look so happy," Hiromi says, thousands of miles away in Boston. Sakusa can hear the smile in her voice during their weekly Saturday night calls, his calves burning from the hike Atsumu invited him to earlier in the day, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

_[Two boys wearing black newsboy caps and matching black turtlenecks with a large, red R on the front are posing. The one with bleached hair is holding a rose in his mouth as the other one holds a Pokemon plush to the camera.]_

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"My mom makes an even better karaage set than I do," Atsumu says, steering him in with a protective hand on his waist as a woman with the twins' mouth smiles warmly at him, standing up from the table.

"Kiyoomi-kun," She greets, swiveling her head to her son and back, "I can call you tha' right?"

Sakusa nods, feeling the callouses on her hands as she guides him around the table to the man with the twins' eyes sitting in a wheelchair.

Sakusa feels anxious as he bows his head slightly, introducing himself before Atsumu rolls his eyes at his dad and tells him to cut the tough dad act out.

"And just for tha," The twins' father grins, a dimple forming, "Let's get straight to the embarrassing part. Sarah, can ya bring the albums out?"

"Dad no," Atsumu moans, flailing his limbs on the spot as Ken gestures for Sakusa to sit down, a manic glint in his eyes. Sakusa follows his directions eagerly.

"I like your dad," Sakusa is still howling with laughter as Atsumu shoves him towards the car, the November air chilly and settling into their bones. "I can't believe he let you go to kindergarten with underwear on your head!"

"Shut up," Atsumu whines all the way back as he drives Sakusa home, "I was five!"

"Okay, Tightie Whities."

"Kiyoomi!"

**s_yomi  
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"You finally change yer IG description and yer callin me a loser? I'm so hurt righ' now! So _betrayed!_ "

"Do you hear something, Suna? Can someone proofread my application essay?"

"Nah I think it's the wind. More popcorn? Hey Akaashi, wanna refill the bowl?"

"Sure. And I'll read your essay, Sakusa."

"Kiyoomi! Don't ignore me!!"

He blinks, "Couple pictures?"

Irina nods, holding up a DSLR that has their school name stuck on the top. Atsumu is sheepishly grinning at him, waving apologetically at Liu as the teacher glares at them for interrupting the class, "For the yearbook."

Atsumu has his scary smile on, "Irina, I thought I already told ya that he's picture shy—"

Sakusa makes his decision right there and then, glad he's wearing a fitted navy sweater that he knows looks good against his complexion, "Sure."

Irina claps her hands together and leads them to an empty wall free of lockers as Atsumu's jaw unhinges.

"Close your mouth, Atsumu, you're going to attract flies," Sakusa smirks, tousling his hair as Irina gives them a mirror and a few seconds to fix their clothing, clicking the buttons on the camera as she fiddles with the setting.

Atsumu only manages a choked gurgle as Sakusa sweeps his hand through his bleached hair, feeling the gel fight against his fingers.

Irina asks if they have their preferred angles. Sakusa answers for both of them since Atsumu has been rendered completely of speech, a healthy flush of pink around his cheeks when Sakusa sidles closer and runs his hand one last time through his hair, feeling the buzzed parts of his hair against his palms.

The new hair was Atsumu's idea. A haircut for him if he helps Atsumu bleach his roots. It was a painless exchange so Sakusa agreed, the only request was that he leaves his bangs alone.

They stand side by side for several shots, Sakusa not smiling but keeping his face neutral as he always does.

"A silly pose for the last picture?" Irina asks.

Atsumu seems to have found his voice back, sounding faint, "Ahahaaha Omi doesn't do silly poses—"

Sakusa turns to Atsumu, "How much can you squat?"

"Huh? Like, two hundred?"

"Excellent," He says, pushing Atsumu to slouch as he goes behind him, linking his arms around Atsumu's neck, "Piggy back me."

" _Wow,_ so I'm a pack mule, huh?" Atsumu huffs. Irina gleefully grins behind the camera, snapping several pictures and flouncing off with promises to send them the images when she gets right back to the photo lab, thank you very much!

Atsumu only bends his knees a little to allow Sakusa's shoes to graze the floor, fanning his lacrosse hoodie as he looks anywhere but Sakusa's eyes, "...I didn't realize yer thing went away."

His thing. Right. Sakusa shrugs, feeling his stomach twist, "I feel fine around you."

"Oh," Atsumu blinks, "Oh okay. Um. I need to. Get back to calc, see you at lunch?"

Sakusa nods, watching his pretend boyfriend speed walk through the halls. When he glances at the windows, about to enter his English class, there are fat, white snowflakes swirling in the air.

The ski trip is hosted at the beginning of winter break, so naturally, Bokuto comes along as a chaperone and tells them it's a free for all in terms of roommates.

"I don't get this trip," Sakusa says, helping Atsumu smooth on a brightening face mask. Atsumu always leaves giant air pockets between the mask and skin as if he doesn't have opposable thumbs. "What's so legendary about it? Even my sisters skipped it."

"I guess it's tradition for the jocks," Atsumu evenly says, eyes closed and his bangs pushed back with a black headband Sakusa bought for him. He brought Osamu and Suna on his skincare regiment, hitting the Asian beauty store across town to stock up on sheet masks, snail mucus, serums and under-eye patches. 

"Hey," Osamu's voice comes through the door, "Tsumu? Omi? Ya guys there?"

Sakusa and Atsumu give each other curious glances. Sakusa, closer to the door, jams his feet into the slippers the lodge provided, opening the door to see Osamu's face flushed from the cold. His hair is soaking wet and a chunk of snow falls from his shoulders onto the rug in the hallway.

"Who nailed you in the head?"

Osamu rolls his eyes, "Yegor. Anyway, jus' wanted to give ya kids these," He cheekily smirks in his twin's direction, pulling a box from the pocket of his grey ski jacket (Atsumu has the exact same one but in yellow) and pressing it into Sakusa's hand. "Toodles!"

Sakusa closes the door and looks down.

Then he screeches and throws it at Atsumu, hitting him squarely on the forehead.

The box of condoms, courtesy of dearest Osamu, is left unopened as Sakusa and Atsumu are lounging on their respective beds, a Christmas Hallmark movie playing in the background. Sakusa is tapping on each of his sister's stories about how they're arriving to the airport, leaving the airport via plane and are landing before being picked up by their tired father who are happy to have three of his girls back. They all must at least share one brain cell together for using #reunited more than ten times.

Atsumu is in the bathroom, trying to floss a string of meat out of his mouth. He's waddling like a penguin from the large dinner the lodge is serving. Sakusa had finished his boyfriend duties of the day, which doesn't feel like duties anymore, snowshoeing with the twins and Akaashi as Suna rests, his ankle sprained from the team's last game.

"Omi," Sakusa raises his head up, not even realizing Atsumu came back, "Want one?"

He's holding a six pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade that he fishes out of the small cooler in the corner of the room. It's Sakusa's favorite seltzer. Nearly five months ago, Sakusa didn't even _have_ a favorite seltzer, going with whatever his sisters usually buys from the liquor store when they come back home for the holidays.

"Did you really sneak alcohol to this wholesome school trip?"

Atsumu grins, "'Course I did. It ain't a school trip without some contraband items," He pulls one bottle and easily snaps the cap off with his house key.

Sakusa sits up properly, mumbling a thanks.

"The guys usually play a game with this," Atsumu says, handing Sakusa his bottle and shuffling to the cooler again.

He's wary, "Did you bring more than this?"

Atsumu smiles. Sakusa isn't surprised, watching him fish out a litre of orange juice. Then, he walks over to his duffel bag, rummages around, and pulls out a glass bottle with an aged yellow label and red letters.

"No," Sakusa gives him a glare.

"Hey! I bought this for us, there's no way I'm sharin' Don Julio with Sumu of all people," Atsumu pulls the two mugs from the complimentary coffee tray over, hair half wet from his shower and his robe loosely tied around his waist. Sakusa colors as he twists the plastic orange juice cap off, seeing the curve of his pecs peeking out.

"Then what's the point of the hard lemonade?"

"Oh, that's jus for ya cuz yer a lightweight."

" _Miya._ "

Atsumu whistles, going to the bathroom. The faucet runs. He walks back out with two wet mugs and two shot glasses he must have packed with the tequila.

"I'll tell ya the rules," He places the wet mugs and shot glasses on a clean towel. Sakusa watches him put it on his bed, walking over to a small breakfast table and dragging it over between their beds. Then he starts setting up the table. "Truth or Drink. The rules, you can probably guess. Take a shot if you want to avoid the question, if not, ya gotta answer it honestly."

"How are you suppose to know I'm not lying?"

"Moral an' integrity, 'course! Are ya sayin' yer a liar, Kiyoomi?"

"This is dumb. The teachers will do their checks soon."

Atsumu smirks at him, sitting cross legged on the edge of his own bed. His skin, even during winter, is still tanned. It doesn't make sense. Even Osamu is starting to pale, "They won't. They have complete faith in the captains. Why did ya think we're such kiss-asses during the school year? So we can reap the benefits now."

Sakusa wiggles his slippers off, taking a nervous sip of his lemonade.

"Rock paper scissors?"

He nods.

Atsumu wins so he starts, a fox-like smile on his lips, "When did ya like my brother?"

Sakusa can't suppress a roll of his eyes, "Trust you to ask about that. It was when we were in Japanese school together. Have you caught Osamu and Suna fooling around in your bedroom?"

Atsumu turns grey, looking like Sakusa had just triggered a memory he was trying to suppress, "Yeah, I nearly tossed 'em outta my window."

Sakusa howls with laughter, "What did they do?"

"I just caught them makin' out on my bed, but," Atsumu shivers, looking mildly ill, "I'm afraid of thinkin' what were to happen if I didn't stop them. My turn, which sister do you like best?"

He smiles to himself despite the question, "Probably Hiromi, we're close in age. What's your honest thoughts on Suna?"

"He's a good guy," Atsumu takes a sip of his drink, looking at the carpet. A single water droplet from his wet hair trails down his ear, neck and onto his collarbones, "I'm glad he's with my brother. They're really happy together."

"...Did you ever feel lonely while they were around?"

"'Course," He looks up through his lashes. They're as dark as his undercut and eyebrows, "They've been together since last year. Before it used to be the four of us y'know? Mom, Dad, Samu and I. Like, Suna was around and playing basketball with Samu but they weren't attached to the hip like they are right now. Why don't you like driving?"

Sakusa throws him an odd look, "Out of all juicy questions you could ask, you're asking about why I don't likedriving?"

Atsumu raises one eyebrow, grinning like a wolf, "I can change it righ' now. _So_ are ya a virg—"

"Shut the fuck up, I'll answer the driving question," Sakusa growls, wanting to punch the smirk off Atsumu, "I hate it because it gives me anxiety."

"You drive fine?"

"It's..." He sighs, glaring at the wall, "It's complicated. I can drive fine but it feels like there are bees stinging me in the stomach every time I'm sitting at the wheel. I hate going on the highway."

"I see. Your turn."

Sakusa takes a sip of the seltzer. The way they're playing right now is all about safe questions. Perhaps he should raise the stakes a little.

"Do you have a crush?"

Atsumu barks a laugh, patting the water droplet on his chest away. Good, it was distracting Sakusa, "So elementary Omi-Omi, it's a good thing yer not in sports or we'd rip every single lil' secret from ya with the way yer askin'. Yes, I have a crush right now."

This is news to him. Sakusa, teetering on the verge of exhaustion from the essay questions he's been tearing his hair over last weekend and his aching muscles from their snowshoe hike, suddenly feels like he has stepped in a cold shower.

"You do?"

"Yep."

"Then why are we still together? Shouldn't you go after them?" Sakusa frowns, wondering if he ever picked up Atsumu's gaze wandering after someone at parties. "Do they go to our school?"

"They do," Atsumu says, falling back on the duvet. He bounces slightly before he pulls and drags some pillows to where he was sitting before, propping his head up as his lies on his back, staring at Sakusa, "And it's complicated, don't worry about it."

Sakusa purses his lips, taking another swing of lemonade, "Do they know about us? How long have you been crushing?"

"Nah-uh! It's my turn," Atsumu is facing him, head propped up on the pillow as he holds the bottle loosely in his hands. "Will you miss me when this finishes?"

The main couple of the shitty Christmas Hallmark movie kiss on screen, snow falling around them as the camera spins around them endlessly. This moment feels slightly like that with Sakusa losing track of time. This room— with it's rugs and warm wood tones, red and gold coverlets fit for a king, feel like a blip in the time and space continuum.

Like they don't really exist in this moment, like a dream.

"I will," He hears himself rasp.

Atsumu flashes him a smile, "I like yer honesty," His eyes darkens as he polishes off one bottle of the lemonade. Sakusa frowns. His bottle is still mostly full.

He stands, grabbing the orange juice from the table and handing it over to Atsumu, "At this rate, you're going to be an embarrassment."

"That's okay, I've accepted ma fate."

Sakusa rolls his eyes, settling on Atsumu's bed and wiggling closer so he can grab Atsumu's house keys to open the next bottle of Mike's for Atsumu. It takes him several tries, but he manages to break the seal in the end.

Atsumu's orange juice is gone. Sakusa stands up and fills the mug with water from the unopened water bottle he nabbed from the dinner table earlier before returning.

"Gettin' comfy?"

Sakusa shrugs, looking at the way his pale legs seem to look lifeless next to Atsumu's very tanned ones. They're both wearing the same robes but Sakusa has his tied tightly, "Might as well. I feel like it's going to be a long night of me nursing you to health."

"Aw, you care! Anyway, fire 'em away, Omi!"

"Is your person in our grade?"

Atsumu snorts, "I've opened up a can o' worms, haven't I? Yeah, they are. If you could do anything you want in the world, what would it be?"

The questions brings a smile to both their faces.

For Osamu, he's planning on dropping basketball after the team's last game to pursue business. Atsumu, from the midnight talks in the little Mazda, wants to continue on playing lacrosse to the dismay of his parents. There had been mornings where Atsumu would pick him up with raccoon eyes, a fight between his parents the night before clear on his face.

"I don't know but I definitely would've stayed in orchestra."

"Oh yeah, why'd you leave?"

He shrugs, "It's something Dad wanted. He said I should focus on my AP exams and not let my self get distracted by concerts and fun things."

"Omi-Omi, a coward. I would've never thought so."

"Here's a question then," Sakusa yanks one of the pillows propping Atsumu's head for himself, lying on his front as he sprawls out on the bed. Atsumu has a pink flush creeping over his cheeks already, Sakusa knew he's a lightweight now.

"Fire away."

"What _did_ you think of me?" He frowns, thinking back to that summer day in the courtyard with the canopy blocking off most of the heat when he still referred to Atsumu in his head as 'Miya'. For all the times Atsumu fondly refers to Sakusa as 'his little crab' on social media, Sakusa thinks Atsumu is the one wearing a hard shell around him, "Before all of this."

To his great surprise, the Don Julio cap gets broken. Atsumu pours a steady shot and tosses it back, chasing with his lemonade.

"What did _you_ think of me?" Atsumu asks, lying back down on his back. Sakusa thinks that his eyes are the same color as the poison he just willingly drank.

"Just Osamu's twin at first."

A raise of eyebrows, "It changed?"

"Of course it did. You became something more," He gestures to the air between them, "I can call you a close friend now, Atsumu. I know what you're allergic to, I know where you keep your Epi-pen, how you like your fatty tunas, how you have this air of nonchalant and lone wolf to your teammates because you hold yourself to such a high standard that everyone else who falls short gets told to do drills over and over again.

He continues, looking at the pillow before pressing his cheek on it. He'd lint-rolled every single surface in this room that has a fabric and sprayed a gentle mix of vodka water since he doesn't fully trust the resort staff.

"Your good side is your left, you need to sleep with earplugs because the slightest noise will wake you up, you even wonder if you're your parents' son because both of them and Osamu sleep like the dead," Atsumu's face is very red right now and Sakusa darts his tongue out to wet his lips, "...So I know you better now. That's all."

Sakusa watches as Atsumu's lids lower, the honey-caramel eyes darting from his forehead, to his nose, to his mouth, "...I thought yer a sleepy drunk, turns out yer a chatty one."

"And it turns out you do have a shittier tolerance than me."

"I'm only one shot in, don't diss me like tha.'"

"Fine. Shots?"

Atsumu narrows his eyes at him, watching Sakusa place his bottle on the breakfast table to pour two shots of tequila. Sakusa tilts his head back, feeling the sweetness hit his tongue first before it slowly burns a hole down his throat.

"Question, but you're not allergic to tequila right?"

Atsumu chuckles, "If I did, I'd be dead by now. Nah, jus' strawberries. It's good, right?"

"What?"

"The tequila, dumbass."

Sakusa pushes him down, watching Atsumu bounce on the bed as he laughs, "Yes, you ass. It's a very unnecessary expense but it's smoother than that Patrón shit your twin likes."

"Hell yeah! I'm the Fatty Tuna Connoisseur! Trust my taste buds!"

"Your taste buds can't be trusted, you puff up and start vomiting the moment you eat a strawberry."

"I'm a fragile soul," Atsumu waxes, putting a hand on his forehead as Sakusa laughs, lying back on his stomach, "Targeted by Mother Nature to not exist! 'I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every mornin' I break ma legs, and every—'"

"Stop it, you're so obnoxious!"

Atsumu grins, rolling to his side as his hair falls over his forehead, "Yeah, but I made ya laugh. 'M getting really good at that now."

Sakusa feels his cheeks lower from the smile. He reaches forward to pinch a piece of fluff stuck on Atsumu's bangs, tossing it away somewhere onto the carpeted floors.

He maintains eye contact with him, "Atsumu, why aren't you chasing after your person?"

Atsumu sits up to take another shot. Sakusa's head is starting to feel heavy but he's still sharp enough to try to piece things together.

"Shots?"

"Aren't you suppose to be the one taking them if you don't want to answer questions?" He grumbles, still accepting the shot glass anyway. Atsumu's pouring skill seems to not have been deterred even if he's three shots in.

"My turn right?" Sakusa nods, "Who're yer past crushes?"

"Why are you so obsessed with my crushes?"

Atsumu grins, "Scared? Take a shot."

"You're the one who's losing here, Miya," Sakusa promises, pouring both of them another shot just for that comment, "It's Osamu for years, obviously I stopped when he and Suna got together."

Atsumu's face twists then smooths out. Sakusa chases the leftover taste out of his mouth with his lemonade, watching Atsumu blink, "...Yer sayin' you've been crushing on him for years?"

He knows he sounds pathetic, "...It's not always a major crush," He explains, looking down at the duvet, tracing his hand on the pattern, "Some years I felt nothing, some years I liked him more than the previous years."

"Oh."

Sakusa looks at Atsumu, a twist forming on his mouth, "I'm sorry, it must be uncomfortable for you to hear this."

"Y'know, Osamu got asked out _way_ more than me so m'not surprised."

"If you stop glaring at the marching band whenever they're playing during your game, you wouldn't be known as an ass, Miya, simple as that."

"It's the noise! You try living in my head sometimes!"

Sakusa tilts his head, lowering himself so he's tucked to his side, mirroring Atsumu exactly, "Sometimes I do wonder what it's like to have a normal brain, one where I'm not thinking about how many people have been sleeping on these sheets before it was laundered, how many people have sat on the toilet, how disgusting the boy's locker rooms are...."

Atsumu raises a finger, lowering his head and pointing to the shimmery skin around Sakusa's knees, of the lightning patterned scars. The robes the lodge provided just falls short of their knees, "Stretch marks?"

"Yeah."

A sly grin, "I have 'em on my hips. A lot of 'em. Ya probably don't want to see them."

"I'm not a prude, Atsumu, but you're right, please keep your robe tight around you."

Atsumu drags his head back up. Sakusa knows he's properly drunk now, with his eyelids permanently at half mast and his cheeks glowing like Naomi when she put on their mother's blush on herself at age seven, "Ever been kissed, Omi?"

He shakes his head.

"Wanna know what it's like?"

Dangerous territory. He shakes his head, looking at the coverlet instead of Atsumu's dark eyes trying to pull him in, "What does it feel like?"

"If yer not in love with them, just like another pair of lips I guess," Atsumu closes his eyes, dropping his voice, "For girls, theirs are sticky because they wear lip balms an' all. For guys it depends on the person. I've kissed the brasses and they're _real_ picky about their lips bein' chapped during the winter."

"Who's your first kiss?"

"Isabella fuckin' Patel, last year of middle school. Shame she moved back to Britain, she was cute."

Sakusa smiles to himself, lowering his eyelids. He vaguely remembers her, "Body count?"

"Oho! Omi is scan-da-lous! Ya really wanna know?"

"No details please," Sakusa quickly adds, thinking about the stupid box of condoms Osamu gave them, "Or I will use your toothbrush to—"

"Zero."

Sakusa opens his eyes to find Atsumu already looking at him with a half smirk on his face, "Surprised ya, didn't I?"

"...It's just that your track record...."

Atsumu waves it away, "I know, I know, I hook up with a lotta people. There's a shit ton of rumors but I don't give a shit about that. My brother and team knows I'm dedicated to sports."

"...Best kisser?"

"Ya lil' perv," Atsumu says with something that sounds like pride. Sakusa hides his face into the pillow he stole, feeling his ears redden, "Go take a shot if you want to unlock this question."

Sakusa huffs a laugh, doing that anyway as he pours Atsumu one too, "What is this? The Sims?"

Atsumu smacks his lips, chasing it with water as Sakusa makes a face. His head is finally starting to go foggy, feeling heavy. He lies back down.

"Best kisser...is this guy who played the flute. Y'know how to play right? To...whas that word called? To make it stacatto, they gotta use their tongue or somethin' like that. But yeah," Atsumu grins at the ceiling, "Nine outta ten. Chen agrees, all the good kissers are in the woodwinds."

"Miya," He pokes Atsumu's cheek, "I play the god damn violin, try to remember that for once."

"Yea, yea, it's that wooden thing," Atsumu bats his hands away, their hand collapsing on the blanket. 

Sakusa doesn't move even though he usually would retreat his limbs, looking at few millimetre of white nail growing out of Atsumu's nail beds. He keeps his cuticles clean, not a splotch of dirt on it even if his shoes are grass-stained and nearly worn to shreds.

Sakusa lifts his pinky, feeling the curve of the bone, "Broken?"

"Fifth grade. Samu's a bitch. Pushed me off the stairs."

"You were trying to slide on the railings and fell on your hand, didn't you?"

"Stop readin' my mind!"

Sakusa opens his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them. Atsumu is playing with his fingers, inspecting his hands and nails while looking like a human version of tomato sauce.

Mustard hair and ketchup face. He laughs. Atsumu raises an eyebrow, giving him a look that says, _yer goin' crazy, Kiyoomi_.

"You're the perfect condiment."

"Thanks? I dunno what tha' means but tha' might jus' be the nicest thing ya've said to me."

"Excuse me," Sakusa giggles, "I complimented you half an hour ago!"

"See, that's no good fer me. I'm used to people complimentin' me left and right that it doesn't work like that anymore."

Sakusa rolls his eyes so hard, making sure Atsumu saw it, "Then what do I need to do to make sure you know you're complimented?"

"Fuck you," Atsumu struggles to lift himself up, spilling several drops of tequila on the breakfast table as he pours a shot. 

"Atsumu, why aren't you answering all these questions?" Sakusa asks, "You avoid my question about why you won't break this fake relationship off to pursue your crush and you remain silent when I asked what you thought of me before you propositioned me."

"Ya gotta be level fifty to unlock all of that," Atsumu wiggles his hands around his face to imitate something. A squid perhaps? Sakusa thinks he's very dumb right now. 

He checks the clock on the wall. It's midnight and Osamu wants to drag both of them to the slopes tomorrow. Sakusa knows they should sleep so they can function well in the morning, "Well, looks like I've won. You drank more shots than me."

As he crawls off the bed carefully, trying to find his slippers, Atsumu drains the cup of water that was left to be forgotten. Sakusa doesn't have another water bottle he stole from dinner so he unscrews the lid of the orange juice jug and drinks some.

"...Ew, that's so gross, Omi."

"Shut up, you drank all my water. Come on, get up, at least brush your tongue."

He has to hold Atsumu around the waist, the captain of the lacrosse team entirely too far gone to stand up properly. At least he has enough dexterity to scrub his tongue and chin. The shuffle back to the beds is painful, with Atsumu kicking and giving Sakusa bruises on his shins by mistake.

Sakusa, being the least drunk, clears the table, moves it back to where it was, sets their alarms and turns off the lights as Atsumu spreads eagle.

"Omi," A faint voice calls.

Sakusa turns his head to his right. It's too dark to see Atsumu, "What?"

"Didja have fun with Truth or Drink?"

"Well, no, because you kept drinking instead of giving me juicy secrets."

"Thas what I thought," Atsumu says sleepily, "So I'll ya this before I knock out. This is my deepest, darkest secret, mkay?"

Sakusa can't see anything in front of him, not even the red numbers shining at the TV screen from their alarm clock on the night stand between the two beds, "Okay."

Atsumu's voice comes out very clear. "There's only one thing in the world I'm jealous that Samu has. And it's that he has a true relationship."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gah, thank you everyone for being patient. Real Life got really messy recently in the hospital and i've needed a lot of time off to recuperate for my mental health but -trumpet noises- here is the next chapter! 
> 
> there will be an ice skating scene further in the fic. yes, it's the same scene that spawned the birth of Notte Stellata if you're curious

"Atsumu."

The lump on the bed groans. Sakusa lifts one socked foot and shakes him, sighing and wondering how he'd ended up here with nanny duty, "Osamu wants us to ski, come on."

"Goodbye..." Comes the dramatic croak. Sakusa rolls his eyes into the back of his head, "Go on fer me, I'll be there in spirit."

He gives the lump an unsatisfied sigh, already dressed in his snow gear, snow goggles in his hand.

" _Atsumu_."

"Hnngggg."

"Fine," Sakusa places a jug of water and clean cup on Atsumu's bedside table before he leaves, telling him that there's a bun on a napkin on their breakfast table if he's hungry enough to crawl out.

He gives Atsumu a last glance before he slips out, pursing his lips together as his skin crawls.

"You didn't even ski this entire trip," Sakusa says, watching Atsumu pull their duffel bags out of the storage compartment at the side of the bus. The air, now that they're not at an elevation of 2000 meters above sea level, is definitely more humid than mountain air.

"I'm an old man," Atsumu says. His hair is covered by a toque. The only way Sakusa knows this is his Miya and not Suna's is Atsumu's crooked canine, pierced ears and his socks and Nike slides. "Hangovers hit you differently when yer as ol' as I am."

Sakusa dryly says, "Haha," Not knowing that hell is about to descend.

His only warning is the widening of Atsumu's eyes as he sees something behind him.

" _Kiyoomi!_ " Three voices squeal from far away.

"Oh no," He manages to say before his sisters pop up in front of him like energetic gophers from a game at a fair.

Naomi has her curls tied up into a large bun, secured with many bobby pins, her watery grey eyes (thanks to contacts) lined with black eyeliner, "Kiyoomi! I haven't seen you in so long! You've grown so much!" She hops in place, wanting to hug him but keeping her hands to herself.

He takes a wary step back.

Hitomi, her hair chemically straightened for her last photo shoot, pulls out a bottle of hand sanitizer, tossing it to Naomi. She grins at him lazily, her NYC accent coming out, "Suh, brother?"

"Hey."

Hiromi turns to Atsumu, bouncing like a puppy, "You're little Atsumu right? Hi! We haven't officially met but you should come over to our house before we all leave!"

"Yes!" Naomi says, crushing Sakusa in a hug when he warily tells her she can hug him. Sakusa gasps for air. For someone who locks herself up in a research lab all day long, Naomi can probably break watermelons with her bare arms, "Please come for dinner! Or breakfast! And bring your family too! The more the merrier!"

"He's cute," Hitomi drawls lazily, cocking her head to the side. 

"H-Hello," Atsumu squeaks. He's an odd shade of red, darting his eyes at four of them like he couldn't decide where to look. Sakusa wants to laugh at his flustered expression. He's been told he and his sisters are carbon copies of each other.

When Hitomi starts pacing around Atsumu like a long-legged jungle cat, Atsumu shooting Sakusa a look of fear, he steps in.

"Okay _stop,_ you're overwhelming him," He says mildly, tugging all of them back by their elbows, pointing to where their dad is standing by the car, "I'll meet you there."

His sisters grumble and tell him he's no fun, shuffling away with linked arms.

"They look like ya," Atsumu says. He seems very dazed. His ears are red.

Sakusa squints. Atsumu blinks back at him, lips pressed in a way that tells him Atsumu is trying to hide something.

"Why are you so red?"

"Let's not talk 'bout tha.'"

"Hey, _loser!_ " They turn around to see Osamu wave his arm out of the Miya's family sedan. Sarah waves at Sakusa from the front seat, "We're gonna ditch ya!"

"...Y'know Omi," Atsumu turns to him with a tight smile, "Since it's the holidays, don't feel pressured ta hang out with us if Samu or Suna texts you. Yer sisters came all the way from Britain and Boston so ya should hang out with them an' all."

"...Sure," Sakusa agrees, a little emptily. 

Although everything seemed fine on the outside, he felt that their relationship had tilted ever since their drinking night, like one of those 'spot the differences' pictures where he's trying to pick out what changed. They held hands and Sakusa threw his arm around Atsumu the last two nights of the ski trip, but their talks had been strained.

When Atsumu spins around, Sakusa leans forward and pulls him back.

Atsumu's nose smashes into his chin, Sakusa apologizes, holding onto the hem of his coat, watching his hands fly up to his face.

"Ow, yer such a brute!"

"Atsumu, is everything okay?"

Atsumu finally looks him in the eye. The honey and caramel is guarded.

"Perfect," Atsumu smiles up at him, "Cheer up, Omi-Omi, people're staring. Wouldn't want ta spark rumors now, do we?"

Sakusa purses his lips, allowing Atsumu to clap his shoulders before hiking his duffel bag and climbing into the family van. From where he is, Osamu waves goodbye at him.

Sakusa raises one hand, watching his fake boyfriend driving away and feeling like he'd gotten his feelings trodden somehow.

Naomi pounces on him the minute Sakusa finishes unzipping his coat, "Kiyoomi! How come I never knew you like lacrosse boys? Do you like blonds then? How did you two get together? You still haven't answered our questions. Who made the move? _Where did it happen? When did it happen? What happened_ —"

Hiromi clucks, sanitizing her hands and tossing the bottle to Naomi, "Nao, this isn't the 5Ws of who what where when why—"

Sakusa runs away from her as Naomi chases him around the living room, looking rabid, "I'm a researcher! Science is my life blood! Kiyoomi, come on! Tell me how you two got together! He looks so cute, I want to squish his little cheeks!"

"Why don't you ask the traitor for not checking the box before she threw it away?" Sakusa yells, hearing his sister gasp.

"I am the _sole reason_ you have a boyfriend!" Hiromi screeches, joining Naomi as both sisters chase after him. Sakusa races for the kitchen, spinning around Hitomi and listening to her shriek as she's trying to make herself a smoothie, "You should be thanking me!"

"No!"

" _Kiyoomi, get back here!_ "

"Hey," Hiromi sticks her head into the half-open crack of his bedroom door, spotting him lying on his bed, "You doing okay?"

Their house smells like burnt turkey courtesy of his father and two other sisters.

He tugs out his ear buds, in the middle of listening to a symphony, "Yeah, why?"

"Can I come in?"

He nods. She immediately gravitates to the hand sanitizer pump on the corner of his desk, looking around his room and raising her eyebrows when she catches sight of the picture wall the twins needled him to make because his bedroom is lacking 'personality'.

There's the picture that's on Atsumu's lock screen, of their backs facing the camera on the turf field after school. One of Sakusa and Atsumu sitting next to each other at Bokuto's house, faces blue from the pool light, mouth open as they chat. 

Hiromi leans in at the picture their father printed, tracing Sakusa's smile as he stands next to Atsumu holding a basketball, cheeks flushed. They're both shooting the camera timid, awkward smiles.

"Who won homecoming king?" She asked, looking at a picture Osamu had taken on a disposable camera. Sakusa's eyes are red as he inadvertently looked in the camera's direction, leaning against the gymnasium wall with Atsumu standing next to him, both of them in black dress shirts and pants.

"Akaashi."

" _Ah_. Keiji was in my calculus class," She tip toes to get a better view of the pictures from school.

Grad Pumpkin Carving Day. Atsumu with a pumpkin seed on his cheek as Sakusa is whittling away at their Jack-O-Lantern. Halloween, both of them dressed as Team Rocket Grunts. Fall Pep Rally, Sakusa slouching next to Atsumu, dressed in his lacrosse kit.

Parties, endless shots of Atsumu hiding his face behind his hand as Sakusa sleeps against his shoulders. Sakusa trying beer pong for the first time and suppressing a tiny smile when Atsumu threw the ping pong ball at his head because he's a sore loser.

Hikes with the twins and Suna, pictures taken by a self-timer on one of the twin's phone, in front of waterfalls, in front of a vast sky, mountains around them.

Suna trying to teach Sakusa how to spin the basketball on one finger, Atsumu with pink chalkboard dust on his skin as he and Osamu scuffle on the ground, Sakusa giving him a dirty look from where he's standing next to Suna.

Atsumu with his arm around Sakusa's waist as they both stand next to a very wet Akaashi with goggles around his neck at a swim meet, the rest of the boy's team blurs in the background. Akaashi had placed first in one of the tournaments.

Sakusa and Atsumu in aprons, taken by Sakusa's father, both of them using ice cream scoops to make cookies. Akaashi, Suna and Osamu holding up peace signs as they all huddle around the dining table, college applications and laptops next to them.

Sabrina in a black knee-length dress and runners, looking hilariously tiny next to Sakusa post-concert. Her violin is in one hand as she tries to recruit him into orchestra again. Atsumu, eyes fond, standing next to him and holding tissues to his ear since his new piercing wouldn't stop bleeding.

"You've become a collector of pictures," Hiromi states. 

"I guess. What brings you here?"

"Just want to make sure you're doing okay," She reaches forward, touching his wrist. He squeezes her hands, soft and warm, "You seem down."

Sakusa looks at the last picture Atsumu handed him, of both of them sitting on the hood of the clean Mazda, in sweatpants and t-shirts, buckets of dirty water nearby with sponges floating, smiling for Sarah.

"Do I seem down?"

"Well," Hiromi squeezes his hand, standing there until Sakusa invites her to sit on his bed. They lie on their backs, watching the winter sun quickly vanish behind the mountains, "Just...faraway. I'm here if you want to talk."

He thinks about the morning after their Truth or Drink, of Atsumu remaining in his ball of blankets and hangover as he pleads Sakusa to go skiing without him. He was definitely hiding something, only Sakusa didn't know Atsumu well enough to know what.

Atsumu had a way to allow people to think they know him with his friendly smiles, filter-less thoughts and easy going personality, but the more Sakusa hangs around him, the more he has to peel Atsumu away to really try to see him for who he is.

They both jump when Naomi shrieks bloody murder from below, screaming about mushrooms and knives and blood.

"Yoo hoo!" Hitomi knocks on the door, peeking in. She looks entirely too relaxed as pots and pans fall in the kitchen, "Dinner's ready."

Hiromi slides off his bed, "Tommy, I _told_ you it was a bad idea to cook turkey again—"

"It was Tou-san's idea! He wanted to cook!"

Hiromi groans, "You _know_ how bad he is at cooking! Come on, Kiyoomi, dinner!"

He slides off the bed and follows his sisters, shutting his door behind him when the phone in his pocket chirps.

It's Osamu. Atsumu's words echo in his head as his phone continue to sing, buzzing in his hands.

He pauses, going back up the stairs and opening his bedroom door again, "Hello?"

" _Hey,_ " Osamu sounds rushed, " _I ain't interruptin' am I?_ "

"No," He frowns, "What's wrong?"

" _He ran away. Left his phone, wallet an' keys here,_ " He's panting, Sakusa could hear his sneakers slap across the ground, " _Ran after him but the bitch had a head start sprintin'. 'M'worried, he ran out without a coat an' it's been over half an hour—_ "

He sets his phone on loudspeaker as he immediately pulls on his warmest hoodie, grabbing a scarf and toque from his drawers, "What happened?"

" _Our parents found the scholarships an' offers Tsumu got.... He was suppose ta destroy 'em but,_ " A pause, " _Anyway, Kaa-san's in tears an' Tou-san's in a wheelchair. Rin's back with them an' I feel awkward leavin' him there since his ankle—_ "

"I'll find your brother, go back to Suna," He orders, thundering down the stairs as he sees his father peer at him from the living area. "I'll text you if I find him."

" _Yer the best. Can ya look near yer house?_ "

"Yeah," He ends the call and shoves his phone into his sweatpants, kicking off his slippers and grabbing his jacket off the hook.

"Kiyoomi," His father stops him.

Sakusa turns, shoving his feet into his runners, the hallway dark. He can hear his sisters singing along to a Tomoko Aran song from the dining room.

"I will set up another plate for Atsumu."

He nods, flinging the front door open and leaping into the chilly air. There's a good half foot of snow and blue sidewalk salt that crunches under his shoes. His breath comes out in thick, heavy clouds that swirls around his head.

He sets off in the direction of the Miya's house. He hears Bokuto's booming laugh from Akaashi's house across the street, the salt crunching under his runners.

He keeps his eyes peeled for a glimpse of bleached yellow hair or someone with no winter coat as the cold settles deeper into his bones. Knowing Atsumu, he'd rather freeze than crawl back to his house to grab a coat and sulk.

His nose starts to run when he passes a park nine blocks away.

Finally. 

He sprints to the little playground in the middle of the suburbs, leaping past a ditch and wincing when one of his legs sinks into the snow piled up at the sides.

He shakes his leg out, huffing as he steps onto the damp wood chips. Atsumu, in a t-shirt and shorts, shaking miserably on the swings like he isn't surprised Sakusa is there, looks up.

"You're an idiot," He snaps at him, striding forward and taking off the hat on his head and the scarf choking him, "At least check the temperature and wear long pants if you plan on running away!"

Atsumu allows Sakusa to tie the scarf around his neck snugly, not protesting when Sakusa jams the hat down on his head. His eyes are puffy and irritated. His lips are chapped.

"Come on," Sakusa pulls him up, shrugging off his winter coat to peel off his sweatshirt. He gives that to Atsumu, mourning the loss of the layer as his thin long-sleeve brushes against the cold material of his winter coat, "We're having dinner, you missed the attempted arson."

When Atsumu finally speaks, his voice is thin and crackly, "A-Ars'n? You Sakusas are wild."

"Your voice," Sakusa stares.

"...I yelled a lot."

"You're sleeping over tonight," He makes the executive decision without consulting his pretend-boyfriend, pulling out his phone and tapping vigorously as he texts Osamu, "And having breakfast with us. You can stay there until school starts again."

"...Tha's too much."

"That's too bad," He spits, getting worked up as Atsumu trails after him.

"Yer scarin' me, Omi," Atsumu hoarsely says.

"Shut up, I'm not giving you a pen and paper if you lose your voice."

"Bossy."

"I _told_ you to shut up, Atsumu."

Atsumu laughs, bitter, "I told Samu to not get ya involved."

"Then next time you run away, remember to bring your phone with you," He snaps.

Atsumu shuffles closer to him when a particularly cold breeze sweeps through the road. Sakusa, after a pause, throws his long arm over Atsumu's shoulders and brings him closer, trying to shield him from the wind as they make the long trek to Sakusa's house in silence.

Sakusa stands in front of Atsumu when they get back home, warding off his sisters with a dark glare as Atsumu steps into slippers.

Naomi clears her throat as Hiromi and Hitomi stand behind her, curiously looking, "We set up a bath, figured you'd be freezing. We'll eat first, okay?"

Sakusa nods, "Yeah," To Atsumu, he pushes him up the stairs and into his shared bathroom, only opening the door to toss in clean towels and pyjamas in the direction of Atsumu's voice when the doorbell rings.

"Kiyoomi!" Naomi yells, "It's for you!"

Sakusa goes downstairs. Osamu waves sheepishly from the doorway, holding a small bag in his hand that he holds out to Sakusa, "Fer Tsumu."

From the lumpiness, it must be clothes. Sakusa nods.

"Thanks fer takin' him in, I'll try an' talk to my parents."

Sakusa grabs the strap of the bag with his sleeve pulled over his hands, "It's not a problem. He can stay here as long as he needs."

Osamu thanks him again before leaving in the Mazda. Sakusa goes back upstairs and throws the bag in Atsumu's general direction, aiming for the floor next to the tub and hoping it doesn't land in the water.

While he waits, he takes a quick shower in his dad's master bathroom. He would only normally shower in his own bathroom but he feels disgusting from the sweat and snow melting in his hair. When he finishes, he crosses the second floor and opens his bedroom door.

Atsumu is awkwardly hovering in his room when he comes back in, the towel around his shoulders, wearing a faded Doreamon shirt that must be from the duffel. He's wearing long sweatpants at least.

"Give me a second to moisturize," Sakusa says, towel draped over his head like a veil.

"Ya...actually stuck all the pictures?"

He looks up from pressing toner into his skin. Atsumu found the picture wall. Had it just been an hour ago when he and Hiromi were staring at it?

"I did," He unscrews the lid to his moisturizer, massaging it in upward motions on his skin, "You said it was a boring wall anyway. Do you want some?"

They end up spending half an hour in the bathroom, moisturizing with serums and creams as Sakusa teaches him how to apply creams without dragging the skin before they go down. Atsumu seems fascinated with the different creams on the bathroom counter.

Sakusa's sisters have migrated from the kitchen to the couch, all curled up in one giant blanket huddle with their dad uncorking wine.

"We're just gonna watch a movie," Naomi calls out, waving them to sit on the dining table where the broth is still bubbling, "Help yourself."

"Sorry for intrudin'," Atsumu presses.

"Nonsense," Hiromi says. She gives them a smile before turning her attention back to the TV.

Sakusa slides some thawed tteokbokki on a plate into the broth, following that with several sheets of cabbage, mushrooms and potatoes. His wrists twinges slightly and he switches the chopsticks to his other hand, moving slower. 

They eat silently, watching along to the movie even if they can't really see it clearly. Atsumu laughs hoarsely when the glass to the boa constrictor exhibit vanishes, the character on screen yelling. Sakusa takes this time to pile on more meat onto his bowl.

Eventually, Sakusa clears the table and Hiromi joins him to wash the dishes since they weren't on cooking duty. Atsumu is chatting to his other sisters as Chamber of Secrets starts playing.

"Kiyoomi?"

His father beckons him over into the hallway. Sakusa shakes off his dish-washing gloves and shuffles over as his father slides the partition door between the hallway and back of the kitchen closed.

"I know he's your boyfriend," His father dryly starts, "But I will ask him to sleep on the air mattress, okay? If you must...'roll around together—'" Sakusa begins to shake his head, mortified at the quotation marks his father is making, "—Please go get condoms now from the corner store before they close."

"Th-There won't be a need for condoms!" He chokes.

"I can drive you."

"No!" Sakusa bleats weakly.

His father pats his shoulders, giving him a look that says he doesn't believe him, "I've been your age once, Kiyoomi. But you're a good boy, just be safe, okay?"

He then watches his father stroll back inside, asking who wants ice cream and cookies. Sakusa stands in the hallway, mortified, until he trails back inside and avoids looking at Atsumu for the rest of the night.

Atsumu is attractive, yes, it's a no-brainer since he looks exactly the same as Osamu. Of course Sakusa finds him attractive.

At that thought, he shovels more ice cream into his mouth and twists his face, Hitomi teasing him about getting brain freeze.

"Do you want the bed?" Sakusa awkwardly asks when they finish brushing their teeth.

The blowout mattress has been fitted with a sheet thanks to one of his sisters, a pillow fluffed and waiting next to two sets of thick blankets folded on the surface.

"S'yer house, Omi, ya get to sleep in yer own bed," Atsumu lets out a giant yawn, crawling onto the mattress, "Thanks fer lettin' me crash."

Sakusa plugs both of their phones (along with the care package was Atsumu's Epi-pens, phone, charger, wallet and keys) into the wall socket. It's snowing again outside, the clouds light enough that it's lighting the blinds.

"Concert?" Atsumu looks at his violin case that's been shoved to the corner of the room. Sakusa shakes his head. He'd only pulled that out to practice several scales and glance at his old music.

He stopped playing violin nearly a year ago. He pads over to the corner of his room and shoves it in his closet.

He clicks his lights off, settling in as they both listen to the shuffling of each other trying to find a comfortable spot.

"...Yer sisters didn't ask me any questions."

Sakusa shrugs. Then he realizes it's too dark and Atsumu couldn't see his shoulders move from where he is on the ground, "They're good at that.... Do you want to talk about it?"

"...I mean," Atsumu sighs. Sakusa turns right and peers down, barely seeing the outline of Atsumu's face in the dark, "Samu texted me how ya sorta know. I don't wanna give up lacrosse. My parents do. We fought."

He doesn't know what to say.

"...Osamu said you've gotten offers from other schools. That's great, Atsumu."

Atsumu snorts, "S'suppose ta be great, yeah. Tell tha' to my parents."

Sakusa leans back on his pillow, blinking at the darkness, "Why are they against it?"

"They worry probably," A pause, "Y'know, sports ain't forever an' all. I broke my ankle las' year from a scuffle on the field mid-game an' my mom cried the entire time we were in the ER. Samu got a concussion in his sophomore year when someone checked him too hard so I guess she's...traumatized."

"I'd worry if I were her too," He says, knowing a certain captain of the football team who's had not one but three concussions. "Your brother mentioned scholarships."

"...Yeah. To some D-1 schools."

Sakusa opens his mouth in surprise, remembering that lingo from his and Suna's chats at the ski trip when Atsumu refused to ski with them due to his hangover, "That's—"

"Really good I know," Atsumu says flatly, "I'd be prouder if it weren't fer my parents but here we are."

"Do you have a place in mind you want to go to?"

Atsumu is quiet, "Probably Yale. Or Princeton but they haven't won the Division One league since 2001."

This surprises him, "Isn't Syracuse one of the best schools for lacrosse?"

"It is but..." Atsumu shuffles to his left. Sakusa can see his eyes blink in his direction, "But I thought if I go ta Yale or Princeton it'd appease my parents a little. They like the prestige you know, Ivy League an' shit."

"Oh."

"How 'bout ya, Omi-kun? We've never spoken 'bout where yer goin' come graduation."

He swallows. 

Atsumu's not only one of them with school-picking problems. It's a common problem to moan about at parties. Akaashi is torn between two literature departments on opposite sides of the country, Suna isn't sure what or where he wants study and Sakusa has hidden a secret underneath his ribs for the longest time.

The thing is, he regrets quitting music.

"I got the early acceptance letter to Juilliard since I'm out of state," He mumbles.

Atsumu gasps, the mattress crinkles with his shifting. Sakusa sees his head pop up, "Wha' the _fuck?_ Congratulations! When? How? Yer goin' there right? Ya should get an apartment with Sab if yer not thinkin' of dorming, I know she got an early acceptance too."

He shakes his head in the darkness, "I'm not going."

" _What._ "

"I'm not going," He repeats heavily, "I applied just to see if I can get in."

He listens to Atsumu shuffle around until he hears the creak of bed springs and slide of skin on his bed sheets. Atsumu must have placed his arms on the edge.

"Does yer dad know?"

"No."

Atsumu whispers now, "He doesn't approve?"

"I've always..." He starts, trailing off. He could see Atsumu faintly blink in the darkness, "I... I want to stay here and go to an in-state school."

Sometimes when his father is home he spends his free time looking at past albums Sakusa's mother made in the living room, finger tracing over her portraits. Every birthday, he tells Sakusa how he looks more and more like his mother with a smile hiding grief.

Naomi had needled him for years to talk to someone. Every year, his father refused, stating that he's perfectly fine and capable, look at him, can someone who's depressed take care of all four of them while working a stressful job?

"You don't sound very sure of that, Sakusa."

"I have to."

"Ya _have_ to?" Atsumu echoes, incredulous.

Sakusa wanted to keep his family separate from he and Atsumu's promise. They both wanted that in the beginning but the line began to blur and before he knew it, he sees the Miyas regularly on a biweekly basis when they invite him over for dinner.

"I have to stay here and take care of my dad," He whispers into the darkness, "He'll be lost without me around. It'll be easier for all of us if I stay home and attend college nearby."

"And give up yer dream?" Atsumu argues back quietly.

"You don't understand."

When Naomi went off to England, their father moped for an entire year and a half. By the time Hitomi announced she was going to pursue modeling and no one could stop her, Sakusa thought his father was at least relieved that his second child was staying on the same continent and co-signed a lease for a small apartment in New York.

And when Hiromi left, Sakusa already promised to take responsibility.

_"You're sure," Hiromi had pressed, watching Sakusa help her load her luggage into the trunk, "That you want to stay here?"_

_"I'm sure."_

His mother died giving birth to him. Sakusa has to repay his father for all the pain he indirectly caused him.

"...I don't think he'd want his son ta stay in state ta take care of him."

Sakusa feels Atsumu's warm hand splay atop his.

It's a comforting touch, something he never had much of in recent years. Hugs and caresses were always through gloves or a clean blanket, not the rough pads of Atsumu's hand, the callouses on his palms from lifting weights rubbing Sakusa's skin.

Atsumu speaks softly, "Have ya noticed how ya can touch me fine now?"

"...I'm used to you."

"If ya tell yer Dad you want to do music then he'll get used ta the idea of it too," Atsumu says like two plus two equals four, confident.

"It's not that easy, Miya," He sighs, tired.

"Have ya tried talkin' to him? I really feel like he won't mind if ya go to Juilliard."

Talking about his feelings, he nearly wants to laugh, "We don't do that here."

"Oh my god, try!"

"Hypocritical of you to say that," Sakusa leans into the darkness, "How's that going with your parents?"

Atsumu pinches his hand in the dark, irritated, "'Kay, fuck ya."

Sakusa feels a tiny shred of regret for bringing that up, "See? It's not that simple."

Atsumu sighs, "Glad ta know I'm not the only one sufferin.'"

"Where's Osamu going?"

"UCLA. Business somethin' somethin' so obviously my parents have no problem with him. Did I tell ya, we ended up cancelling our birthday plans cuz I got inna fight with 'em the night before?"

Sakusa can't remember if Osamu had mentioned anything about a cancellation. He doesn't even remember either one of them mentioning their birthdays, "When are your birthdays again?"

"October fifth."

"You didn't tell me anything?" He feels slightly betrayed for some reason.

"'S'fine. You had tha' crazy ten page calc test an' Suna was drownin' in English," Atsumu says casually, voice light. He didn't sound too hurt but Sakusa knows that Atsumu is put out, drawing random patterns on top of his hand with a finger.

If the lights were on right now, Atsumu would probably shoot him a too cheerful grin, trying to hide his sadness.

"You sound like you want a good distraction," He feels the words slip out.

There's a flash of a quicksilver grin, "Oh? Uni-kun has somethin' in mind?"

Sakusa swallows, slowly moving forward until he could see the faintest light hit Atsumu's wide eyes, giving him ample time to run away.

He stops just short of their noses bumping together, seeing the faint outline in the dark.

"Kiss me."

Atsumu's throat audibly clicks as his voice turns raspy and high, "We don' need to. This—" His hand brushes against the blanket, he must be waving it around, "—This fake— relationship thing s'enough. S'enough tha' ya have to hold hands with me an' come to parties—"

"Show me what kissing feels like," And because he knows Atsumu will fumble again, he lightly reaches into the darkness until he feels the prickly skin of Atsumu's unshaven chin, spreading his fingers until he feels a light fluttering beat near Atsumu's neck.

His brain is calm. He's not spiraling, rubbing his thumb gently against the roughness.

"S'unsanitary—"

There's no shrill voice in his head screaming about the types germs there are in the human mouth and he curls his hand around Atsumu's jaw, the skin warm, "Scared, Miya?"

That seems to do the trick. Atsumu blinks dazedly at him before lurching forward.

Despite being body slammed back onto his pillow, Atsumu is gentle when he presses his body down, stopping a centimetre away to blow spearmint over Sakusa's face. 

He's exhaling raggedly, eyes so, so wide. Sakusa knits his fingers into the cotton of Atsumu's shirt, feeling the threadbare fabric from so many washes.

"Are ya _sure?_ "

"Yes."

"Where can I touch?" Atsumu rasps.

"Everywhere," Sakusa leans his neck up and presses his mouth against Atsumu's. They're soft and slightly dry, "Anywhere."

Atsumu kisses him, tangling his hands in Sakusa's hair, tugging him down gently until Sakusa isn't holding his head up, exhaling quietly when they part before leaning back in.

Sakusa burns.

It's soft and dry at first, like a fire that starts out small. Sakusa can feel his heart rate speed up as Atsumu guides his mouth gently, until he understands how much pressure to push back with. For every eager, forward press from him, Sakusa meets with equal want until one of them— he doesn't know who— opens their mouth and introduces tongue.

Atsumu slowly pulls back, dragging his teeth on Sakusa's bottom lip, breathing heavily from his nose. Sakusa feels his eyes roll up slightly, exhaling and feeling a blush spread over his cheek when Atsumu presses forward once again.

Naomi had raved about the weighted blanket their father bought for her the first year she lived abroad. Sakusa didn't understand what was so great about going to sleep with a weight over your entire body, thinking that she lost her marbles for being rained on so often.

But he supposes it's like that with their fronts pressing together, Sakusa opening his mouth and feeling a hand snaking into his hair—

Atsumu vanishes. Sakusa blinks into the darkness, hearing a huff by his ear and a shadow hovering above him.

"Atsu—"

"'M fine, I'm—" He's breathing very heavily, "Sorry."

"Boners are normal," Sakusa growls. Embarrassing topics became normal dinner conversation when your parent is a doctor, "Get back here."

"Yer gonna be the fuckin' death of me, Omi."

"I _said_ get back here."

Sakusa feels a hand wind itself in his curls, the grip gentle until Atsumu turns cruel and tugs on it, "Fuck you."

"You can try," Sakusa boldly states.

They ignore the way Atsumu knees Sakusa in the ribs for that comment. Sakusa fights his own war with his blanket, immediately too hot with all the layers on top of him. Atsumu doesn't push, kissing him chastely until Sakusa becomes impatient and sticks his tongue into his mouth.

Atsumu chases after his tongue and sucks on it gently, Sakusa trails his hands up from where he'd kept it by his side, feeling the buzzed section against his palms before he strokes the soft strands without any gel resisting him.

Sakusa feels his thick arms, all corded muscle, the warm skin of his waist from his shirt riding up, the soft material of his sweatpants, holding onto his hips, grounding him. Atsumu is everywhere. He's the heady scent of Sakusa's shower gel and moisturizer, the hot palms touching him around his jaw, ribs, waist, firm and gentle at the same time.

He is heavy with delight and tired and energized all at the same time, chasing after Atsumu's mouth when he draws back slightly. 

He feels a caress of a hand on his very hot cheeks, trailing down his neck, side, pulling his shirt up to rest around his waist—

"Okay?" Atsumu croaks.

"Okay," Sakusa chases his mouth, feeling the hot brand on his waist before it goes back up. It wouldn't be so bad to die like this, he thinks, or to be engulfed by flames. Atsumu is the sun and he is the stupid Greek son in stories that flew too high to chase it.

He leans up, gritting against Atsumu's weight and ignoring Atsumu's surprised hiss in his ear, flipping them.

There's enough light from the snow falling outside that he sees Atsumu's bangs faintly in the darkness, his eyes round, his mouth parted.

For a split second, he wants to reach forward and stroke his hair, plant a kiss where his eyelashes brush his skin.

Instead he bends down.

"You need to work on your cardio," Sakusa brushes his mouth against his ear, wondering what will happen. To his satisfaction, Atsumu shivers, gripping onto his shirt tightly, "You're so out of breath."

He doesn't fight the hand at the back of his head pulling him forward. He meets Atsumu in the middle, moving his lips against his, his heart beating the hardest rhythm its ever beaten in his life as Atsumu curls his leg around his waist to keep him there.

He wakes up in the middle of the night in Atsumu's arms. It's so warm. Atsumu is snoring softly.

Sakusa wiggles to find a new position, slipping back into sleep.

He wakes up alone with an Atsumu-shaped indent left on his mattress. He yawns, staring at his ceiling that's still definitely too dark to be fully morning yet.

There are voices downstairs.

He doesn't think, he just leaps for his slippers and leans over the banisters, afraid to find the Miyas at his door.

There's no one at the door. Sakusa slithers down the stairs and into the hallway before peeking into the kitchen where two figures are sitting at the breakfast bar, steaming mugs of tea in front of them.

His father is typing away on his laptop, using a green program full of boxes to show Atsumu something.

Sakusa decides it's none of his business and quietly goes back up to bed, the chill of the house making him yearn for his blanket.

"Murray Christmas," Hitomi mumbles, sleep-walking to the bathroom at the end of the hall and colliding with the door. Sakusa grunts, slipping back into his room and bunching his blankets around him as he finds the warm spot he was sleeping on.

He closes his eyes, darting out his tongue to wet his lips. They still feel like the same lips but he remembers the dizzying sensation of their illicit make out session and turns to suffocate himself in his pillow.

He turns towards his window, back to the door as he hears an unfamiliar set of footsteps go up the stairs. One second later, his bedroom door softly clicks open.

Sakusa breathes out gently as his heart pounds, pretending to be deeply asleep.

He hears Atsumu shuffle in, the door making the gentlest of noises when he closes it. There's a long pause in which Sakusa disgustingly hoped with all his heart that Atsumu would crawl back into his Atsumu-shaped indent on his bed. 

But of course he doesn't.

There's a gentle sigh.

Sakusa nearly jumps when Atsumu moves his blanket further up his chin.

Then Atsumu sinks back down onto his mattress noisily, tossing several times before he finds a comfortable position. Sakusa hears the pipes running, Hitomi's feather-light footsteps crossing the second floor and the soft thud of her door closing.

Sakusa opens his eyes, seeing the pre-dawn grey light filter weakly through his blinds. 

The Atsumu-indent is cold now when he presses his cheek into it, minutes later once Atsumu is snoring loudly.

Atsumu is awkwardly hovering in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal when Sakusa staggers in, only thinking about food and how he'll eat Atsumu if he so much makes a squeak.

His sisters must still be sleeping even though it's past eleven. There's a good half-foot of new snow outside, throwing everything in a blinding winter wonderland glow as the sun shines brightly.

His father can be seen from the living room windows scattering salt and shoveling for their elderly neighbors next door. Sakusa stares at the container of cereal and milk left on the counter.

"Um."

"Shove over I'm hungry," He crankily says, hip-checking Atsumu. 

Atsumu releases a squawk, bouncing off the pantry door. Sakusa ignores that, opening the cupboard that was blocked to grab the nearest bowl. He glances at it quickly to make sure it's clean before upturning the cereal container, cornflakes, slivers of almonds and dried cranberries spilling into the bowl.

There's only the sound of Sakusa chewing until he polishes his first bowl and goes for seconds, eyeing Atsumu as he tries to find something to say about the kiss.

It was good. He liked it even though he has nothing to could compare it to. But what does Atsumu think? Was it good, bad?

Then he stops chewing, feeling the soggy cereal in his mouth. Since when did he care about what Atsumu thinks?

"Have ya skated before, Omi-Omi?"

Sakusa turns to see Atsumu's face lit up from his phone. He shoves all cereal into one side of his mouth to speak, "A long time ago."

"D'ya have skates? The pond's iced over an' it's thick enough tha' people are congregatin'."

Sakusa does have skates. He also tells Atsumu his father has a pair too.

Atsumu grins, visibly pleased as he runs outside and hollers for 'Papa Sakusa'.

They're speaking about the various lessons their parents have enrolled them in over the years on the way to the pond. It's odd to see Atsumu drive the Jetta just as it is to see Osamu drive the Mazda since Sakusa has connected Atsumu with Mazda in his head with a sharp, black line.

They haven't spoken about the kiss. Sakusa isn't sure if he's suppose to bring it up because he egged Atsumu on or what, but he prefers a chatty Atsumu rambling on than post-ski trip Atsumu who avoids his eyes.

"—Japanese, as you know," Atsumu lists his lessons as they climb out of the car, inhaling the snappish air. Since Atsumu had ran off without a coat, his wardrobe is currently sponsored by Sakusa's father since he refused to touch Sakusa's banana-and-lime jacket. He's wearing an old, thigh-length, olive green coat with a fur-lined hood. "Swimming, karate, soccer, piano—"

"Piano?" Sakusa breathes, air coming out in clouds. The sun is hiding behind a cloud, barely shining anymore. Forecast says more snow later on that evening.

"Yeah but I ain't as good as ya think, we both didn't like it so we stopped early on."

Sakusa's father paid for skating lessons. As it seems, the Miyas did too.

They walk over to the frozen lake, watching several other people waddling over from the edge in their shoes. In the middle of the large lake is a haphazard collection of runners and boots.

Sakusa's father maybe goes skating once a year but he and Atsumu coincidentally are the same shoe sizes. They walk towards the center, looking at the bubbles trapped underneath the ice, the pine trees dusted with white as families huddle for pictures around them.

Atsumu sits down on the ice, tugging off his battered, grass-stained runners and pulling on hockey skates. His blond fringe is hidden by Sakusa's cap, nose and ears red from the cold. He has a scarf loosely tied around his neck.

Sakusa joins him, pulling on his skates and flexing his cold fingers to tighten the laces as Atsumu whines at him to hurry up.

The ice is thicker this year. He digs his toe pick into it, watching a flurry of shards fly up and scatter. The ice is tinged teal and reflects trees and mountains. Sakusa watches as his reflection blinks back at him.

Atsumu races ahead, taking off like a dog in an open field. Sakusa follows, breath snaking from behind him like a steam-powered train, their skates loud as the babble behind falls away.

Atsumu loops back, twisting his hips at the last second before he crashes to send a spray of ice all over Sakusa's skates. His smile is wide as he tugs Sakusa forward.

A familiar laugh enters their ears. Sakusa twists his head to see Sabrina in white skates, leggings and a t-shirt, grinning at them and waving from far away.

Atsumu hollers a hello but Sabrina doesn't come any closer. She does a lazy jump— of what kind, Sakusa doesn't remember the name of— and drifts away, the wind tugging at her black ponytail like a sail to a ship.

"Can you do that too?"

"Of course," He hasn't done this in years, but doubles are easy. Sakusa skates backwards in large strokes to build speed, putting one skate in front of the other, crossing them.

He jumps from his right and becomes weightless for a moment. Then he lands on the same foot, wobbling slightly and knowing he fell too far forward on the blade, his free leg whipping. In turn, the ice makes a sharp, ugly noise. 

Atsumu claps, loud, as he turns back to him.

"How come I never see ya in sports, Omi-Omi?" His eyes are shining. Sakusa sees Sabrina slip several yards away, her head turning back and forth as she looks to see who caught her.

He jerks his eyes back to Atsumu, "Don't know."

"Skating's fun?"

"Was fun," He digs his toe pick into the ice again, watching their reflections peer up at him, "Until they wanted me to do pairs. I quit after that."

Atsumu's laugh rings bright and clear, "How often d'ya skate?"

"This is the first time since high school," He skates backwards so he can watch Atsumu's expression. 

Atsumu shares a memory of he and Osamu sliding around in hockey skates at five, giggling and barely listening to their teacher over at the local rink. 

Sakusa tells him his favorite team of ice dancers. They huddle around Atsumu's phone as Sakusa tells him to look up a program on Youtube.

Inspired, Atsumu attempts a twizzle, hilariously failing and skidding on the ice as his yells echo. Sabrina howls with laughter when Atsumu slowly drifts over to her.

Sakusa invites her over. She tells them about her figure skating days ("Oh don't look at me like that, just local competitions, nothing more!") and refreshes Sakusa's mind with the six jumps he once knew before she gets a call from her mother asking her to come back for lunch.

They wave as she skates backwards to the collection of shoes. Sakusa turns to Atsumu, seeing a fond smile on his mouth.

"Is it Sabrina, your crush?"

"Nah," Atsumu shoves his hands into his coat, "Though I really did like her back then. She broke it off, we're good friends now."

Sakusa starts to skate for the perimeter again as Atsumu follows, their blades scratching the surface, "Didn't work out?"

"Yeah but relationships are like that, y'know? You have an idea of what they're like in yer head and when ya get to actually know them, 'course it can change," Atsumu hums, "Omi, teach me the toe loop again."

Sakusa purses his lips, gliding backwards, "We should head back. Your mouth is starting to turn purple."

Atsumu grins, "Wanna warm them up?"

_Ah._

A bubble of relief swims over him. Sakusa rolls his eyes but stops, watching Atsumu's eyes fly open comically as he smashes his nose onto Sakusa's chin.

Sakusa wraps an arm around him to steady them both before leaning in slowly with a warning that he's going to take up on his offer. 

Atsumu swallows, flustered. Sakusa takes his silence as an answer and closes his eyes to peck his mouth. Soft, dry, cold lips that sends a little zing down his head. He pulls back.

Atsumu purses his lips, fluttering his eyes open, "Stingy."

"That's all you deserve."

"Wow," Atsumu huffs. He looks up at the overcast clouds now, "Tell me more about music, Sakusa."

This throws Sakusa off for a loop, "What?"

Atsumu shoots ahead and spins around so he's the one skating backwards, grinning at him, eyes warm, "Why music? Why Juilliard?"

"It's the same thing with you," Sakusa replies, hand in pockets, "Why lacrosse?"

"Fair point," Atsumu says. "I like the sport, I like playing inna team but yer not in the music department anymore righ?'"

"How do you know?" He squints suspiciously. He didn't think Atsumu paid attention to anything that wasn't non-lacrosse related, much less about music.

"Orchestra rehearsals in the mornin' start earlier than the sport teams. Sometimes we can hear ya when we do laps an' yer windows are open."

"Oh," Sakusa nods, "Yeah, I stopped after winter last year."

"Why?"

"...I got...tired of it all," He thinks about how he started hating practices and etudes and sonatas, the lack of rivals around him to push him further, the pain in his left hand, the way he had to spent time at the physiotherapist _and_ counselor when he could just stop everything.

"Why d'ya like music? It's just noise, righ?'"

"I like learning about it, especially when you get to higher levels and have to learn music history. You understand a piece so much more when you know the background of the composer. Did you know Tchaikovsky liked men?"

"No."

Sakusa tilts his head to the side, looking up, "He married a woman because he was scared of losing his position. Whenever I play his pieces now, each note has a greater meaning. I think about the hidden emotions behind the notes, what intent he originally wanted to get across, what his thoughts were when he wrote it."

"Did ya ever get frustrated?

"Of course," He could remember agonizing over that stupid Paganini caprice he had to record to send to Juilliard, wiggling the phantom pain from his wrist away, "Even if there were hard pieces with difficult techniques, I still want to play it because I like to try, you know?"

He still could remember sawing away on his violin, the stage lights so bright he couldn't pick apart the audience's face, tuning everything out as he relies of memory and muscle alone to simply play. There was so much satisfaction from nailing a difficult passage in front of an audience, in front of examiners, that he poured hours on.

Atsumu smiles at him, one corner of his mouth pulled up. His eyes are warm compared to the blue snow and ice around them.

"Can ya really give that up then?" He asks, soft.

Sakusa breathes slowly out of his nose, tucking his chin inside his collar. He swallows.

He's saved from thinking too much when Atsumu starts sneezing, violently shivering. Sakusa decides to call it a day and they race back to the collection of shoes.

"Freezing!" Atsumu chatters, hand over the vents as Sakusa does the same, each huddling for warmth as the Jetta thrums, "So cold, so cold."

His lips are still purple. Sakusa balls his hands into fists as Atsumu shoves his face in front of the vents, closing his eyes, hot air whipping his bangs back.

Sakusa can see the dark circles below his eyes. His lashes flutter open and Atsumu turns, his cheeks filling with color as they stare at each other.

"Uh—"

Sakusa says without thinking, "You're so ugly when you sleep."

" _Omi-kun!_ " Atsumu gasps. The brazen offense is clear.

"You drooled all over my new pillow case like a snail and your drool isn't even beneficial to the human skin and probably is the breeding ground for all the _bacteria_ —"

Atsumu rolls his eyes, "I'll wash it!"

"You better," Sakusa snarls, crossing his arms across his chest to hide his discomfort and what-the-fuck energy buzzing through his veins. The car smells like melting ice, winter wind and lemon air freshener. "And drive already, I want to watch a movie with my sisters."

Atsumu goes on his phone and clutches onto a pillow as Sakusa and his family start their gift exchange now that all sisters are awake. When Sakusa receives mostly fashionable clothes courtesy of his siblings, Atsumu is mumbling to himself, " _It still doesn't make sense_ ," as Sakusa threatens to throw him into the snow outside.

Hiromi squeals as she gets more journaling items and stickers from Naomi's Japan trip. From Hitomi, each of them receive various goodies from her modeling after-parties. She even had some extra travel samples of cologne she passes off to Atsumu.

When Sakusa pulls out his last present from a random paper bag, he feels the plush pink hoodie with a bee on the front.

"Did I get those music youtubers of yours right?" His father asks, his reindeer ears jauntily jingling.

Sakusa nods, hugging it and curling his knees up on the couch as his sisters oohs and aahs appropriately.

"Who wants hot chocolate?" Hiromi sings, dashing to the kitchen with her Santa hat falling on the ground. Naomi pulls out the Home Alone series and they all help in setting up the shabu shabu pot on the coffee table, dragging whatever small side tables around to hold bowls of cabbage and mushrooms.

Sakusa carefully keeps an eye on Atsumu. He's been checking his phone every five minutes.

Sakusa's phone pings. It's Suna asking what presents they received.

He looks up and sees Atsumu's disappointed expression.

They don't sleep until two in the morning because all of his sisters stayed up nabbing Boxing Day deals online, his father shaking his head at them as he retires early. 

When Sakusa and Atsumu retire to his room, Naomi is still up valiantly trying to buy a blender, hunched over her laptop in the darkness like a troll under a bridge. They say goodbye to her as she grunts goodnight from the dining table.

Atsumu had gotten back in his Atsumu-shaped indent, not realizing he'd climbed onto the bed and not the air mattress. Sakusa doesn't bother correcting him, crawling in after him and shutting the lights off. 

It felt nice to have someone sleep next to him. Atsumu is a six foot tall heater and Sakusa always needs two blankets.

Atsumu had been distracted the entire day, constantly checking his phone. He does that now, checking the screen and turning it off with an unhappy twist of his mouth.

"Your parents will come around."

Atsumu blinks at him, hair fluffy from his shower, "S'ok, Omi, ya don't need ta be nice to me."

"They _will_."

"We'll see," Atsumu says lightly as Sakusa shuts the lights off. He's wearing one of Sakusa's old hoodies that didn't make it into the donation box. "Don't hold ya breath."

Perhaps this is breaching some kind of unwritten rule of the contract they both never specified but Sakusa snakes his hand between the space between them and squeezes Atsumu's fingers.

_I'm sorry about your parents_ , he tries to say. 

Atsumu doesn't do anything. Right when Sakusa thought he crossed a line, about to pull back, Atsumu curls around him and presses his forehead onto Sakusa's shoulders, gripping his hand tightly.

Sakusa greets Atsumu when he stumbles downstairs by throwing a piano book he plucked off the shelf at his face.

He ignores Atsumu cursing him when the spine hits his nose, tugging him by the sleeve and sitting him down as his sisters coo at his bed head, asking if he wants blueberries in his pancakes.

Hitomi leans across the breakfast bar, tapping some cinnamon into her morning coffee, "What'cha got there?"

"A piano book...?" Atsumu flips it around, looking at the yellowed cover that's barely holding on with duct tape. He looks up, meeting Sakusa's eye, "Um, Omi, I don't know if ya realized but I can't play music."

"Yes you can, you took piano lessons."

Atsumu snorts, "Yea, fer like, a year."

"You wanted to know, right?" Sakusa mumbles a thanks as Hiromi slides his pancakes over to him. Fluffy and plain, just how he likes it, "Why I like music? To me, it's not just noise."

Sakusa takes the dust cover off the grand piano in the corner when Atsumu has eaten his fill. His father has stepped out briefly to dig around in the garage and his sisters are giggling over in the corner with egg nog and tea about Hitomi's international travel stories.

He figures occupying Atsumu's mind with piano is better than having him check his phone every two seconds. He presses a key and purses his lips, "It's flat."

"What?"

"Never mind," He starts adjusting the piano bench, 

"What're ya doin?'"

"You're shorter so I'm adjusting this."

"Excuse me, I'm six feet an' a lil' bit."

" _So tiny_ ," Sakusa turns his head and gives Atsumu a mocking smile, "You didn't drink enough milk?"

One of his sisters cackle in the corner as Atsumu seethes. Sakusa stifles a laugh, hearing molar grinding on molar, "I noticed ya don't call yer sisters tiny."

"They've earned my respect. You haven't."

Atsumu inhales very deeply, smiling at him like he wishes he could throw Sakusa into the snow outside. Sakusa raises a taunting eyebrow at him, egging him on.

"Come on," Sakusa cuts their glare off short, flipping to a random duet and patting the space beside him, "Read the first two lines."

"I haven't played in _years!_ " Atsumu hisses, "An' by tha' I mean I haven't played since I was seven!"

"Sorry, what was that? I'm deaf to gremlins below 6'2."

" _Sakusa! I really can't play!_ "

Sakusa ignores that, shaking his wrists to loosen up, "Ready...? And...."

Atsumu frantically tries to sight read the piece, squawking as his fingers clumsily hits the wrong notes. Somewhere behind them, all three of his sisters snort, watching their elbows bash into each other.

"You suck," Sakusa says calmly, playing on as Atsumu stops, hovering his hand above as he squints at the paper before his hands goes back to pressing keys.

"I warned ya!"

"Come on," He taunts, "B and E naturals. You don't see me complaining when I switch between treble and bass cleft."

"Ya only have quarter notes an' chords!"

"F sharp," He chuckles, watching Atsumu's ears flush red as Hitomi laughs. "I could play this when I was five."

"Shut up!" Atsumu growls. But to his surprise, he continues, only grumbling darkly under his breath when his finger slips and presses one too many keys. " _Of course_ ya pick Tchaikovsky."

"That is arranged by Rachmaninoff actually," Hitomi points out. To her sisters, she asks, "Do you guys still play?"

"I haven't picked up my clarinet for so long," Hiromi dreamily sighs. "Do you still sing, Naomi?"

"Yes," Her voice sounds like she's standing right next to Sakusa. He turns to see her smile at the piano, patting the black finish, "She's a little flat but I'm surprised it's not sounding any worse."

Their hands knock into each other. The melody jumbles together before Sakusa picks up right back where he stumbles off, waiting for Atsumu to join back.

Sakusa blinks, watching his pale hands plunk chords, feeling...happy for the first time in several weeks. He's enjoying himself, listening to the out of tune piano and Atsumu cussing next to him.

He really does miss music, he realizes, smiling.

Sakusa barely catches what Hitomi is asking him, entirely engrossed in reading the music and watching Atsumu's hands.

"What?"

"I—" Hitomi huffs, wincing when Sakusa's right hand gets knocked away by Atsumu's frenzied playing, "Ow, you guys suck."

"Tommy," Hiromi flaty says, amused, "You haven't played for years yourself."

When the last notes hum in the air, Sakusa keeps his hands lightly above the keys before letting his shoulders slump, turning around to see Atsumu looking like he'd been unceremoniously told to participate in a marathon with ten minutes to prepare. 

His eyes are still blinking at the yellowed pages, as if memorizing a lacrosse play. He's not checking his phone.

Sakusa smiles to himself, curling his hands.

A clap breaks the quiet. Then Naomi joins the clapping, wandering over to the bookshelf herself to pick out the books that were handed down from sister to sister to sister to brother.

"Play," Naomi tosses the book to Hitomi.

"You play too?" Atsumu says, clearly so distracted he doesn't see his phone light up from his pant pocket. Sakusa shuffles off the piano bench to give his sister room.

"We all did. Everyone started with piano," She hums, rolling her wrists around, "Well, I solely played piano until I moved to New York but Kiyoomi eventually switched to violin, Romi the clarinet and Nao with voice."

She then clears her throat, smiling as she starts moving her fingers, "You'll have to forgive me, Atsumu, it's been over six years since I last played."

Sakusa pulls Atsumu to the couch as they watch Hitomi's slippers move up and down periodically on the pedals, swaying gently to the music, her hair hiding her face.

" _Oh,_ " Atsumu breathes, "This is _Arabesque_."

Hitomi nods, turning the page with a practiced ease, "Deceptively simple to the ears but challenging when you actually start," She pauses, speaking in a tone that can barely be heard over the keys, "Kaa-san's favorite."

Something moves from the corner of the room. Sakusa slides his eyes away from his sister to see his father standing there, mouth parted softly.

Sakusa tenses. His father shakes his head to everyone on the couch, leaning against the wall and listening to the melody. His eyes are misty.

"That's beautiful."

"Oh!" Hitomi turns her head, hands slowing down as she plays the final chord, "Otou-san, how long have you been standing there?"

"Since the middle, it's beautiful, your playing," He looks to the bookshelf that has a picture of his wife with little Naomi and Hitomi sitting side by side, "Shall I play something?"

"You play too?" Atsumu blurts out.

His father nods. Hitomi slides off the bench and stands next to all of them.

Sakusa immediately recognizes the piece within the first three notes.

"I started the piano when I was three and continued to play on the side when I was in medical school where I met Akemi," His father purposefully draws out the melody, his wrists lifting slightly, smiling as he closes his eyes.

The piece is a set of three Liszt wrote based on poems. Naomi and Hitomi are blinking quickly, turning their heads away.

And Sakusa knows why they're crying. The third piece is said to reflect unconditional love.

"This piece is called _Liebestraum No. 3_. _This_ is her favorite."

He meets Hiromi's lost eyes across the couch, knowing that he shares the same look.

"...S'beautiful."

"Thank you," His looks back down, "There's a piano in the lobby at the hospital. I sometimes play this for the patients who are walking around."

His smile drops, however, when his cellphone starts ringing. Sakusa's father quickly goes out into the hallway as all siblings look at each other.

Hitomi walks to the piano, pressing the keys with one finger as the melody plays, "...You can tell he hasn't gotten over her."

Sakusa stiffens. 

Naomi tucks a curl behind her ear, looking to the hallway as her gazes sweeps over Atsumu, "I told him time and time again that he should talk to someone but the old man's stubborn."

Her voice catches at the end. Sakusa looks at his grey sweatpants.

His father walks back in, scratching his head awkwardly, "The baby's feet is coming out first and they're going to rush the mother to OR, I have to go in. There's—"

Naomi quickly steps in, "Don't worry, we can cook something all together. Just go."

He runs off to the front door to grab his wallet and keys. There's a slam on doors and all five of them yank back the living room curtains to see his car back onto the road and zoom away.

"What should we cook?" Naomi asks, already humming on her way to the fridge as she sticks her head in there. "Any requests? We have pork, some frozen udon noodles, leftover mushrooms and cabbage...."

Sakusa hums, standing up and wanting to be away from the piano as Hitomi closes the cover shut, "Atsumu makes good yakiudon."

"EH?" Naomi whips around, "You cook?"

Atsumu nervously swallows, watching all three sisters twist their heads to look at him with intense gazes, "Yeah? I make lunch fer Kiyoomi every week?"

"What the _fuck_ , what the fuck, that's not fair," Naomi moans, tossing out udon noodles from the freezer, "I want someone who cooks for me."

Hiromi laughs, "Yeah, you need it since your part time job is burning your kitchen down."

"That was only once!" Naomi screeches. "Anyway, Atsumu, come here and teach us how to not burn noodles."

Sakusa pushes him forward, grinning as his sisters tug him by the arms and coo about how cute his sweaty palms are.

They try to convince Sakusa to partake in a snowball fight after lunch. Sakusa refuses, grabbing the shovel and watching as Atsumu joins Hitomi's side, half formed lumps of snow flying across the front yard.

Sakusa stops shoveling his driveway when his phone chirps. He tugs off his gloves and immediately presses the screen to his frozen ears.

"Did you—"

" _Whoa whoa,_ " Osamu huffs, " _I know what yer gonna ask an' no, I'm still workin' on it. They're less angry, maybe he can come home tomorrow._ "

Sakusa lets the silence tell Osamu how displeased he is at his slowness, "...What did you want to call about?"

" _Spring break. Ya in?_ "

"What."

" _Tsumu didn't tell ya?_ _Guess I can't blame him recently. Uh, every year we go ta Akaashi's vacation home fer break. Yer comin', right?_ "

"Is tha' my stupid brother?" Atsumu materializes in front of Sakusa, plucking his phone from his hand and yelling, "Samu ya bitch! When can I go home?!"

Sakusa turns his attention back to the front of the yard where his sisters are lying down, shielding their eyes against the sun. They're quietly talking before Naomi decides that she's too old to be receive snowballs to the face, hurrying back inside.

Hitomi and Hiromi follow her after a beat. He sighs, feeling his breath warm his skin from the mask, shoveling the last part of the driveway clean.

Atsumu suddenly screeches, face red. Several birds resting on a power line flap away. Sakusa jumps, clutching the shovel.

Atsumu hands the phone back to Sakusa, sour, "Sorry, I just signed ya life away ta Florida."

Sakusa looks at his black screen. Osamu had hung up then. He sighs, shoving it back into his pocket, "It's okay."

"'M really sorry, I am," Atsumu mumbles, looking away, "I didn't ask earlier cuz yer birthday's 'round tha' time, right?"

"Oh. You know my birthday?"

"Sab mentioned that she always misses it, it's during spring break righ?'"

Sakusa hums, nodding, "Yeah, it's March 20th," 

In recent years, his sisters have all been too busy to fly home for his birthday so he'd spend the morning going to the cemetery to visit his mother with flowers, Hiromi and his father in tow.

He always felt weird about his birthday. He doesn't tell Atsumu this.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, you're making me nauseous," Sakusa rolls his eyes, thinking that at least this year his father didn't have to fake an attempt at being cheerful, "And I don't mind."

Atsumu pulls out his phone from his pocket, running a hand through his hair, "Samu loves to fuckin' jump the gun. Akaashi already bought tickets fer all of us, so um, since this's partially my fault I can pay half—"

Sakusa looks at the screen. Now that he stopped taking violin lessons and have a steady income from tutoring, his wallet's quite padded, "That's fine, it's cheaper than I thought. I can pay in full."

"'Cheap?'" Atsumu echoes.

Sakusa nods, "I usually go on international flights," He shivers, "Let's go back inside, I'll make us tea."

"Can we play the piano again?"

Sakusa swivels his head, stopping. Atsumu seems as surprised as he is, flushing red as he waves his arms around, "I-It's fun okay?!"

Sakusa gives him a smile, pushing the door open, "Yeah, I'll try to bully Romi into digging her clarinet out, she seems eager anyway."

"Tha' was amazin'," Atsumu says, tugging the blanket up to his chin. Sakusa could hear the smile in his voice as he shuts off the lights, "The improvisation."

After dinner (Naomi had ran out to drop off their father some of the katsu curry they made and a giant thermos of coffee at the hospital), they all cajoled Sakusa into pulling his violin out. 

He played for the them the pieces he recorded and sent to Juilliard, deaf to their questions about how he got so good without a teacher. He absolutely refused to let Atsumu touch his violin, not trusting him at all even if Atsumu promised to behave.

Hitomi played a series of random chords and then it's he and Hitomi improvising as he teases her how bad her ears are. Atsumu and Naomi started shouting song requests from movie soundtracks and animes. 

Sakusa had gritted his teeth as Hitomi, the cheater, played the accompaniment to Kreutzer at twice the speed without any warning.

Then Hitomi had shown Atsumu how to play simple Christmas chords as all his sisters gathered and belted Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey at the top of their lungs.

"Yer sisters seem fun to be around."

"Don't go falling in love with them," Sakusa mumbles, wiggling for comfort as he feels Atsumu's arm press against his side.

Atsumu laughs lightly, promising, "Never."

A hand shakes him awake. Sakusa resurfaces from the dredges of sleep to see Atsumu hovering above him, his room dimly lit from the blinds. It's early morning from the way the room is being lit.

He's confused, unsticking his mouth to rasp, "What—"

"I'm goin' home."

"Oh," Sakusa blinks. He rubs sleep away from his eyes, "That's good?"

Atsumu just shrugs, retracting his arm to his side. He's already dressed, the Doreamon shirt gone. His hair is messily combed into place, the blond strands flat and roots growing in.

Sakusa knows he couldn't stay forever, sitting up and shoving his feet into slippers, but he feels like Atsumu's departure is too sudden. He pinches his arm to see if this is some weird egg-nog induced dream.

He opens the door and leads both of them downstairs to see Naomi chatting to Osamu at the door.

Sakusa stays back as Atsumu grunts hello to his brother, already feeling empty on the inside.

"Thanks fer housing him," Osamu tells both of them, passing off a glass container full of something dark, "My Ma made this. Brownies."

"How kind," Naomi coos, tucking her hair behind her ear. Sakusa watches as Atsumu wiggles his feet out of the guest slippers, leaving them by the side, "You two should come over for dinner before we have to fly back."

"Sure," Atsumu throws Naomi and Sakusa a sunny smile, his face pale in the overcast sky. Sakusa itches to pull him back inside his house, still sleepy and confused and not sure if this is a very vivid dream or not.

"Say thank you, shithead," Osamu pipes, punching his brother in the arm.

"Thanks," Atsumu echoes, voice still hoarse from sleeping and yelling carols at the top of his lungs last night, "I'll see ya fer the New Year's Eve party."

"There's a party?" 

Atsumu rolls his eyes, waving to Hiromi who had just slunk downstairs, curious at the noise and cold air blowing into the house, "'Course there is, Omi, I'll text ya. Tell yer Dad thanks for letting me room with his family."

As Naomi closes the door, Sakusa hears Osamu pipe up with where Sakusa's father is, Atsumu telling him that he's been at the hospital since last yesterday and is catching up on sleep. 

He and Naomi loop around to the living room to see the twins get into the Mazda, the car chugging out of sight.

And then there were four.

Naomi hums, "He really likes you."

She crosses her arms, giving him a fond smile. This is the first time he's been truly alone with her. 

Sakusa's earliest memories was of being piggy backed by her around the house and watching her cry as she slices apples to bring to Hitomi whenever they fought. They all used to be so close when they were younger.

Then they left him alone, one by one. He supposes that's life.

"Nah," Sakusa scoffs after a pause too long. They're just very good liars.

"I'm old, Kiyoomi, I can tell," She laughs, tucking a curl behind her ear, "My ex didn't even look at me like that and we dated for three years."

Sakusa doesn't comment about how she's probably dating the wrong person for three years. He lets the curtains drop and turns around to go back to his room, muttering no when Naomi asks if he wants some instant oats for breakfast. 

When he gets to his room the air mattress is still on the floor, the blanket nicely folded. Sakusa steps over it, his knee bouncing on his bed as he crawls back in to find a warm spot. 

Atsumu's pillow is still there, the middle dented where his head had been.

Sakusa feels oddly fuzzy, like he's still dreaming. He checks himself, wondering if he's coming down with something.

Atsumu had been ripped apart from him without warning and in the days they spent together, Sakusa had gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night with someone breathing quietly in his ear.

He wonders what his therapist has to say about this new predicament, tugging the blankets to his chest.

He sinks back into his pillows, rolling over to Atsumu's side and falling asleep.

He lounges in his room for the rest of winter break, the days melding together into one haze of meals and naps. He goes to the mall with Naomi, who stocks up on her favorite teas, visits his mother's grave with his entire family on a cloudy afternoon with flowers, allows Hitomi to style his hair when she got bored of watching Netflix.

He skates around his siblings on the pond. His sisters didn't bother buying skates when they grew out of their smaller ones so it's only he and his father who are trailing behind them.

Hitomi asks him if he could bring his violin down again, wanting to improvise. He agrees.

Before he has to leave for Akaashi's New Years Eve party, he sends his school counselor an email.

Sakusa offered to drive Atsumu home this time since Atsumu has always been designated driver to all parties. Instead of hopping across the street, he gets into the Jetta and drives over to the Miyas.

He stops in the middle of the road, pressing on his phone to call Atsumu when his fake boyfriend steps out of the house, dressed in dark jeans and a wine red sweater. 

Atsumu opens the door and angrily slams it shut. He buckles himself in. 

Sakusa doesn't say anything, squinting at his mouth—

"What the hell happened to your face?"

Atsumu turns halfway to him. He has a split lip in the process of healing and several faded bruises on the right side of his chin.

Sakusa reaches forward by reflex, wanting to do something, anything, before he tilts Atsumu's face more towards him. There's a giant purple bruise on his jawline.

"A fight, obviously, thought yer smarter than that, Omi-Omi."

"Is this what happens when I leave you alone?" Sakusa demands, throwing the car into park as he uses both hands to gently twist Atsumu's head left and right. The split lip looks the freshest, "You get into fights with Osamu? Does he have bruises too?"

Atsumu laughs, raspy. Sakusa wants to shake him, "He looks _way_ worse than me."

Sakusa presses his mouth into a thin line. Atsumu reaches over and pats his elbows, "'M'fine, ya can drive."

Sakusa throws the car in reserve to do a three-point turn as he faces in the direction of Akaashi's house, scowling.

When they let themselves in after stuffing some bills into the piggy bank resting on a table behind the front door, Sakusa turns his head left and right, holding his water bottle in one hand as Atsumu drags him to the drinks. There, he chats with a Bokuto who looks like he wants to say something about his face but refrains from doing so.

Rin waves at him from one of the couches. Osamu isn't paying attention to them, focused on the screen as he presses buttons on a controller, playing something with several members of the basketball team and someone from Sakusa's Spanish class.

From across the room, Sakusa could see that Atsumu had been right. Osamu looks more ruffled than him, a bandaid stuck to one cheek and his lower lip swollen. His hands, holding a controller, are scabbed.

Sakusa turns to see Atsumu's hand wrapped around a solo cup. It's also scabbed.

" _Miya_ —"

"Let's say hi, Omi-Omi!" Atsumu drags him away as they travel around Akaashi's house, nodding and greeting classmates. Sakusa doesn't get to talk to him for the rest of the night, being ditched with Sabrina and some of his former orchestra classmates when Sakusa realizes Atsumu isn't stroking circles on the back of his hand with his thumb.

"Where is he?" He seethes. Sabrina shrugs helplessly.

And he starts his search for Atsumu. The first time he catches Atsumu, he's in the kitchen, chugging a half carton of milk as Akaashi frowns at him, Bokuto by his side. Atsumu slips away when Sakusa breaks away from the crowd, feeling murderous.

"Good holidays?" Akaashi asks, refilling his water bottle as Sakusa pants. He hates crowds. Atsumu is usually there as a shield so people bounce off him, but as it stands currently, Sakusa is over-exerting himself trying not to brush against people.

Sakusa chugs some much needed water, fanning himself with the sweater he unfortunately is wearing, "Where the hell is my idiot?"

"Your idiot said he needed to pee," Bokuto pipes up, offering him a bowl of popcorn, "Chicago mix?"

Sakusa shakes his head. He waits around, making small talk with Akaashi while keeping an eye for a flash of brassy blond.

After a while he gets tired and decides to turn his head towards the back door, seeing a blond head.

He inhales sharply and watches as Atsumu, cooler in hand, chummies himself up to Rachel and several members of the girls and boys volleyball team outside.

The uneasiness is back. He feels someone stand beside him.

"Fighting?" Akaashi asks.

Sakusa tears his eyes away from Atsumu laughing on the deck, "Not exactly."

"...You're good at cards, right? Let's play some Speed."

Sakusa allows himself to be dragged up front into the living room where Akaashi clears the coffee table, Suna joining them. He forgets about Atsumu for two hours, schooling everyone in cards but pursing his mouth when Suna manages to win all rounds of Cheat.

"It's your face," Suna grins as Akaashi sighs, shoving all his cards to him to be shuffled.

Sakusa frowns, "I thought I have a good poker face."

"Not when you and Tsumu are fighting," Suna hums, gathering the cards so he can scoop them into a deck, " _Are_ you two fighting?"

"I don't _think_ we are," It's hard to be on the same page when your fake boyfriend is off doing whatever and avoiding him, "What happened between the both of them?"

Suna lowers his eyes.

Akaashi looks between them, muttering an excuse about keeping an eye on Bokuto as he slips away.

"I'm sorry, Tsumu told me not to tell you."

"Oh," Sakusa awkwardly says. He meets Osamu's eyes, where he's sitting next to someone on the swim team on the couch.

Suna quickly says, "I don't know why he won't let us tell you, I think it's pointless anyway, like he should tell you since you guys are dating but he's such a complete idiot—"

Sakusa laughs despite the gravity of the situation, "Yeah, he is. It's okay, Suna, thanks anyway."

"Hey!" Akaashi's clear, low voice echoes through the living room. Sakusa lifts his head up, "We have toasts ready in the kitchen, tell everyone outside!"

"Let's go, let's go," Suna says, hauling Osamu from the couch as he herds both of them to the kitchen.

It's chaos in there. Almost everyone in senior year is crammed into Akaashi's spacious kitchen, making it look tiny. Sakusa grabs one of the clear plastic cups of water on one end of the giant counter, away from the flutes with sparkling pink liquid on the other.

His phone rings. He picks it up, hearing Naomi and Hitomi's voice.

He shuffles over to an empty corner, "Hey."

" _Hey, just wanted to wish you an early Happy New Year!_ "

He smiles at the ground, "Thanks, you're at the airport already?"

" _Yeah, Dad dropped us off half an hour ago_."

"Have a safe flight, text us when you land."

" _We will! Tell Atsumu happy new year from us too_."

"Sure," He says vacantly. He lifts his head to look left and right, wondering where he is, "See you soon."

" _Bye, Kiyoomi!_ "

From across the room, he watches as Akaashi stands near his fridge, keeping an eye on his watch as Bokuto wraps his arms around him, chatting to Sabrina. Akaashi twists in his arms to plant a kiss on Bokuto's jaw.

"Tsumu not here yet?" Osamu says, entering his vision.

Sakusa shakes his head, his eyes lingering at the bruises on Osamu's jaws and chin. He drops his gaze down.

"...He's a fuckwad."

Sakusa laughs in spite of himself, "Your brother isn't that bad. We get along."

Osamu raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth tugging up, "Yeah?" His hair is a toned a cooler, gleaming grey, "'M glad ta hear it. Sorry ya have ta like his sorry ass though."

"I'm sorry you two are fighting."

Osamu shrugs, "Siblings, right? I'd die for him though, he knows tha', I'm sure. D'ya fight with yer sisters?"

Sakusa shakes his head, wrapping his fingers firmly around the cup, "Naomi and Hitomi left the house when we were still in elementary school so it was Hiromi and I mostly. We didn't fight much, tried to keep it civil for our dad."

Osamu hums, nodding, "He must be lucky ta have good kids, unlike our mom and dad. I feel bad fer them."

Sakusa frowns, "Osamu?"

Osamu waves his concern off, twisting his head left and right, "Anyway, where's Tsumu, he can't ditch ya for New Years...."

_"_ _Seven!"_ Akaashi calls out, glued to his watch. At his voice, everyone is sent into a scramble, couples finding each other in the kitchen, others pulling their phones out for pictures and videos.

"Samu!" Suna snakes an arm around him, panting. He looks at Sakusa, smile disappearing, "What the fuck, he's still missing?"

Sakusa nods, twisting his head left and right.

_"Six!"_

"TSUMU!" Osamu roars, deafening everyone within a six feet radius. Suna winces, elbowing Osamu in the ribs.

"It's fine," Sakusa says, hearing Akaashi yell out the number five, "I don't need—"

"Omi!" A blond boy squeezes between bodies, a half drunk flute of something pink in his hand.

_"Four!"_

Sakusa's heart eases as Atsumu links their fingers together in the crowded kitchen. His hands are cold, Sakusa squeezes, looking at his guarded eyes and hesitant smile.

_Where did you go?_ Sakusa wants to ask.

_"Three!"_

Atsumu tip toes to his ear, smelling like winter air, "Omi, we don't need ta kiss if ya don't wanna. This is kinda public—"

"I don't mind."

_"Two!"_

Osamu and Suna kisses prematurely, both of them grinning with delight, their hands holding each other and cups of water and alcohol. Atsumu blinks in surprise.

Sakusa uses his free hand to flick the little hair that has drooped down on his forehead away.

_"One!"_

Someone pulls on a party popper next to them but Sakusa slides his eyes shut, bending down and meeting Atsumu halfway as their friends hoot and cheer.

_"Happy New Year!!"_

Atsumu smells like the winter wind and tastes like raspberries. This, Sakusa commits to memory, breaking apart as he greets January first to Atsumu's eyes staring up at him, full of sorrow.

"Atsumu?" He mumbles within the shouting and cheering. 

Atsumu quickly flashes him a cheery grin, shaking his head, "Nothing, Omi! D'ya wanna take a picture with Rin and Samu? Oh, let's drag Bokkun and Akaashi too...."

Sakusa allows himself to be pulled forward, looking at Atsumu's wide back as he leads him back into the crowd.

He feels like he's stepping off the damned school bus after their ski trip all over again, like he took two stairs instead of one, a hiccup in his stride, a slight falter.

Again, something is off. Sakusa thinks about the nights they shared in his bedroom. Atsumu had lowered some walls for once and Sakusa felt like he had some sort of breakthrough in figuring Atsumu out.

But now, it's back to square one.

He releases a sigh, muttering apologies as he careens and bumps into Akaashi's side, looking at the camera and schooling his expression into something neutral.


	3. Interlude: Scherzo-Tarantelle Op. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look, it's not an actual chapter but i thought it'd be fun to see a bit of what happened during last year through osamu's perspective. 
> 
> you can skip this chapter if ain't your jam, but we do see when atsumu's falls for sakusa haha ha

_"What?!"_

The fact that they're twins is both in itself, a curse and a blessing.

Atsumu is still gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Osamu continues to sit in the car, the words " _I'm not following you into sports,_ " an echo between them, knowing exactly what is running through his brother's head.

Since young, they've always been a set. They eat together, they play with each other, they go to school together— hell, they even still sleep in the same room.

Together is their word.

Even this Mazda was bought with both of their money— the cheapest and flashiest car that checked Atsumu's boxes while Osamu just wanted something that could get them from point A to B.

" _What the fuck will you do next year then?_ "

"I'll still play basketball," Osamu says, dragging a hand down the window, watching the condensation on the window wiped off. The tip of his finger is cold. Coach has told him that he's likely going to make Captain over Rin anyway.

"That's it?" Atsumu snarls, loud in his left. The Mazda is small for two of them and Osamu regrets breaking the news before the recital but the longer he put it off, the more his skin felt itchy, "' _G'bye, have fun with the rest of yer life_ ' while ya leave me like the traitor yer are—"

"Atsumu," Osamu snaps, facing to look at his contorted reflection, "'M'not betraying you! I'm just not following you inta sports!"

"Ya might as well die!" His twin spits, "What the fuck do you know outside of basketball an' cookin'? D'ya even know what yer gonna do?"

Osamu stars at the insurance papers his mother crammed into the glove compartment, the corner peeking out. 

Does he know what to do with his future? Not exactly. He has a couple of interests he could look into but he knows this for sure: he doesn't want to make basketball his career.

It felt very woolly at the moment. In his head, he's still thinking about game strategies and how to survive through next week's calculus exams. How is he suppose to decide his future when he has trouble wondering what to eat for breakfast?

"We're gonna miss the recital," He unlocks his seat belt, tugging the lock and putting a foot on the wet parking lot. He doesn't have to look at Atsumu to know that he's still sitting, " _Come on_ , Tsumu, don't be a fuckin' jackass ta Sabrina."

"So now ya hate basketball, is tha' it?!"

He doesn't. He likes basketball, he likes dribbling, free throws, landing an unsuspecting three pointer, the stealing, the guarding, all of it. He likes the smell, rubbery and fresh, likes the dimples on top of a new ball, finding comfort in the way he could palm it easily.

"No."

Atsumu runs after him, splashing in a puddle as both of them trek to the front entrance of the arts building, " _Then what?_ "

"You just like lacrosse slightly more than I like basketball," Osamu stuffs his hands into his pockets, feeling the winter chill enter his bones. Atsumu will aim for higher sights and Osamu will be content with the experiences he's had up to this point and cheer him on, "That's all."

From the way his brother stumbles, he doesn't seem to realize that there would be a day where they wouldn't chasing for the same thing.

Osamu sighs. How long ago was it where they had told every adult around that Atsumu will cheer Osamu on when he gets to the Olympics?

He touches the cold handle of the building door and pulls it open, feeling a blast of warm air brush against his skin. It's loud in here, full of music students wandering around in concert blacks with parents, siblings, friends and children running around.

The lobby looks the same. He hadn't stepped inside this building in at least eight or nine years, looking around and seeing the familiar tall ceilings and wooden beams being lit with lights. The waterfall at the entrance is a new addition though. He can see coins at the bottom of the pool, glittering.

"Glad you both could make it."

Sabrina is waiting by the door. She's wearing a black pantsuit with a white dress shirt and black pumps. The long pants and three inch heels gives the illusion that she's taller than she actually is. 

Osamu gives her a dip of his head. When his twin doesn't answer, opting to stare vacantly at the carpet, she frowns.

"Is he okay?" 

Osamu motions to the stray hair sticking to her lip gloss.

She uses a pinky finger to pull at it as he shrugs, "Concert's startin' soon, right? Ya should go backstage an' warm up."

She rolls her eyes, "They're going by age this year, older students are playing in the second half. Where's Rin? I saved him a seat and everything too."

"Family plans. His cousins flew down," He explains. Atsumu, realizing that he should stop being a dick head when he got invited to something this important, is blinking at Sabrina like this is the first time he's seeing her, his eyes sharpening.

"Lookin' good, Sab."

Sabrina tugs on the ponytail hanging over one shoulder. She's trying to grow it out to waist length by the end of next year for prom. This is the first time either of them has seen her hair past collarbone length, "Thanks. You doing okay, Tsumu?"

Atsumu shrugs, "'M going to the bathroom." 

They watch as his dark green coat disappears and blends into the other bodies in the lobby.

"...Did you finally break it to him?"

"Yeah," Osamu sighs, scuffing his converse shoes on the deep red carpet. It's flat, having been stepped on many times. Years ago when he and Atsumu still took piano lessons here, they'd been amazed at how fluffy the carpet was, rolling from one end of the lobby to the other.

Osamu is not sure why he's lamenting over that particular memory. Maybe he's wishing for simpler times.

"Second guessing?"

He shakes his head. Usually when he makes the wrong decision he would feel pressure around his chest, like his very body is rejecting him, but right now, he feels at ease.

He feels better actually, much better than when he woke up this morning knowing that he couldn't hide this from Atsumu forever.

"Here," Sabrina waves a pamphlet over to him. He opens it, scanning the list of performers tonight.

"Yer doin' a quartet?"

Sabrina nods, "I'm surprised the school agreed to it. I had pull their teeth out for a duet years ago," She points across the lobby to a group of girls chatting together, "Those are the other three in the quartet."

Osamu is saved from wondering that the other girls play when Atsumu comes back and the overhead speakers chime the start of the recital. Sabrina leads them inside the theater, sitting down on the grey cushy chairs. Osamu chats with her about her winter break plans, Atsumu on her other side, staring unseeingly at his knees.

The first few performances fly by. Osamu smiles when several parents of young children stand in front of the stage to video tape them on expensive cameras and phones.

He checks on his twin to see Atsumu nodding off. Sabrina also turns her head and rolls her eyes.

"Sorry 'bout him."

"It's okay," She dryly says, turning her head back and applauding as a tiny girl in a red dress and matching headband hops on stage. There's a wave of giggles when a woman who must be her music teacher is waving a forgotten sheet music to her from stage side.

"Thanks fer invitin' us, by the way."

"No, thanks for coming," She shrugs, looking tired. "My parents.... Well, I'm just happy someone could watch me so all the hours I spent practicing aren't wasted."

Osamu briefly thinks about the times Atsumu had stayed late with him after his own practice wrapped up, his muddy runners dirtying the indoor court as he repeatedly slaps the basketball out of Osamu's hands. How many hours had he also stayed back, the hood of his raincoat pulled up as he helped Atsumu practice dodging drills, their sneakers turning wet in the rain?

"Ya bussed, righ'? We can drive you back," Osamu automatically slips into 'we'. He wonders when he'll have to stop using that. "We could get late night burgers even."

"Ooo," Sabrina hums, "That sounds great."

Osamu feels his cheeks lift, turning back to the front as the little girl finally returns to the piano with sheet music. 

More performances fly by. Sabrina gives him a quiet running commentary in between pieces to provide context for the musicians (what instrument they just played, how old they are if she's seen them around, if they were out of tune, the background to the pieces they're playing if she's familiar with the composer) since his brother is snoring away.

Atsumu blinks awake when the lights in the theater come back on. The MC announces a ten minute break before starting the later half of the concert.

"Okay," Sabrina grumbles, whipping out her phone from her hidden pocket, "What the hell is going on? It's been buzzing non-stop—"

She gasps.

"Huh?" Atsumu whips his head at the sharp inhale, rubbing gunky stuff out of his eyes. "Waz goin' on?"

"Ellie just told me she overheard Kiyoomi talking to our violin teacher that he won't be returning next year for lessons," She hisses, her brown eyes resembling hot coals as the chat continues to blow up, pink text bubbles appearing one after the other as Osamu looks and sees caps lock yelling, "What the fuck, what the _actual_ fuck?"

A face appears in Osamu's mind, of the silent boy with black hair in the classes they shared. Not exactly a friend, not a stranger either. Osamu has spoken to him several times though Sakusa naturally doesn't talk much in class from what he remembers, always gazing out windows and looking like he'd rather be somewhere else.

"'S'that bad?" Atsumu asks. He shares a look with Osamu, both of them on the same wavelength for once. All around them are parents talking to each other, unaware of Sabrina's spiraling emotions, "Isn't that a good thing? He's yer rival, ain't he?"

Osamu sometimes forgets that those two dated at one point of his twin's life. He liked Sabrina. She had a mean mouth that would emerge from time to time when Atsumu was being stubborn and they would team up and tease Atsumu to tears.

But if he remembers, she'd always pointed out how Atsumu lacked emotional delicacy. 

"Not everyone wants ta become number one, Tsumu," He frowns. His brother could never get his head out of his ass enough to pay attention to anything that's not lacrosse. 

Atsumu scoffs at him, rolling his eyes, "Sab's been his number two fer the longest time. I'd be happy if the opposing team's attackers break their ankles."

She looks up from her phone again, eyes wide and glassy, "He's quitting everything— the school orchestra, his private lessons— _everything_."

Was this how Atsumu felt when Osamu broke the news in the car? He watches Sabrina's face morph from sorrow to anger back to sorrow again, the knit between her eyebrows more prominent. He glances down at the exploding group chat, seeing bubbles of text asking her to come out because Kiyoomi is apparently having a very quiet but semi public argument in the green room where he's been hiding with his teacher.

"That's good!" Atsumu cheers on her behalf. Osamu feels a spike of rage as Sabrina's widens her eyes in disbelief, "Ya can be first chair, right?"

" _Tsumu!_ " He hisses.

"What?"

"It's a _waste_ ," Sabrina growls, looking up from her phone, "He got third place in the Junior's category for Menuhin two years ago— he was suppose to go to Geneva this spring too for seniors! He's a god damn prodigy but he's tossing all of that aside and for what—" She glares down her phone, the chat box slowing down.

Her eyes are swimming with unshed tears. She opens her mouth to inhale and exhale.

Osamu glares at his twin and motions to her.

Atsumu falters, running a hand through his gelled hair and putting a hand on Sabrina's shoulder.

"Sab?"

She puts her phone away, standing up, "I have to go," She climbs over Osamu's long legs as he yelps, trying to draw them back so she could pass through, "I have to warm up. We're third after break."

She marches up towards the doors behind the front section and disappears. Osamu kicks Atsumu's knee, watching his brother inhale sharply and move a seat beside him, punching his arm.

"Ya fucker," Osamu hisses, "Yer so fuckin' rude, why did you say tha' she could finally be first chair?"

Atsumu rubs his arm, mouth curling up, "I'm gonna pour water on yer bed when we get back. And why can't I say tha'? She's always put out every year when they announce seatings and that Kiyoomi guy always ends up first! She doesn't like tha' guy!"

"She obviously respects him!"

"Who da hell _needs_ respect? Another competitor gone s'a good thing!"

Osamu is saved from cuffing his twin on the head as the lights around them dim, a senior from their school walking on stage and heading for the grand piano glittering under the stage lights.

He leans to his brother when the performance ends, "Kiyoomi's her locker neighbor. They're good friends. Ya've never seen 'im?"

Atsumu frowns. Osamu could physically hear his neurons trying to fire off synapses, "...Maybe? I don't go down ta the music hallway often an' s'been two years since Sab an' I broke up."

He sighs audibly, watching Ellie walk on stage with a cello. Atsumu oohs quietly, "Hey, it's one of 'em bass things."

"'M so glad Sab isn't here ta murder you minutes before her performance," He mutters, thinking that she would screech for calling the cello a double bass.

"Hm? Did'ya say somethin?'"

Osamu shakes his head, gesturing Atsumu to pay attention to their classmate's performance.

"So who's this Kiyoomi person?" Atsumu hisses.

"He's in my classes, ya've never had one with him," Osamu knows this fact because in all of his high school life, he's never shared one class with his twin. Small mercies, their teachers must have wanted them in separate classes so they're less confused.

"Hmm," Atsumu hums, watching Ellie sway to the music, "Oh this's Lay Sig-nay righ?'"

"It's _Le Cygne_ ya dimwit, I clearly got all the brain cells in the womb."

Someone behind them clears their throat. Osamu clamps his mouth shut and doesn't yelp when Atsumu's hand goes to giving him the most painful pinch he's ever received in his life.

Atsumu claps and whoops quietly when the performance ends and the cellist stays sitting, three girls walking across stage. Sabrina's eyes seem to be red from where they're sitting, a faint frown between her eyebrows. She shakes it off however, smoothly putting her violin on her shoulder.

"Hang on, I think I remember Sab tellin' me how she looks up ta this really good violin player."

The synapse finally clicked. Osamu sighs, "Does it make sense now? Can ya imagine lookin' up ta someone huge yer whole life, wantin' to play with 'em and seein' 'em give up right in front of ya?"

He tries to remember if there were any athletes Atsumu looks up to. Perhaps if he could draw parallels his stupid brother could finally understand.

Atsumu hums oddly, subdued.

"They're orchestra friends too, he's her stand mate," Osamu recounts all of Sabrina's stories about Kiyoomi when they all used to hang out after school, before Sabrina was invited into senior orchestra ahead of her peers with Sakusa Kiyoomi as her only friend within a sea of strangers and seniors.

"I guess..." Atsumu trails off. Sabrina begins sawing away at her violin, matching the build up of the other three players as several younger kids in the audience perks up in their seat, " _I guess if he's all she's ever looked up ta, I'd also be devastated._ "

Osamu turns, seeing his reflection blink evenly at him, throat closing. Atsumu shoots him a rueful smile before turning his attention back to the quartet.

They don't speak for the rest of the performance.

Sabrina doesn't say anything when she finishes playing her solo piece, slipping back into the audience. She climbs over Osamu's legs and sits between he and his brother again. Atsumu had returned to his original seat when she started bowing on stage.

He opens his mouth, "Could ya believe it, Sab, Tsumu doesn't know what Sakusa looks like."

Sabrina stills, pausing from inspecting her bow as her violin rested in her lap. Osamu watches them out of the corner of his eyes, "Well good for you, Miya, because he's coming out after this guy."

"Sure, sure," Atsumu yawns, "I might fall asleep before then."

"I hate you so much," Sabrina says, lacking venom and in the same tone Osamu has when he finds Atsumu borrowing his clothes without permission.

"Love ya too," Atsumu makes smooching noises, shutting his eyes closed.

The pianist plays an exciting piece. Sorrow quiet, then something energetic. Osamu claps and shares grins with Sabrina, captivated and watching the audience stand up. 

"Wow!"

She nods gleefully, getting to her feet as she tucks her violin between her side and arm. Her bow hangs off her thumb as she tries to clap, "I know! He's going to Juilliard!"

The piano player bows twice and walks off stage, grinning. They all take their seats again and Osamu gives Atsumu's sleeping body a scowl.

The MC introduces the last performer of the night. Sabrina takes a deep inhale and rolls her shoulders back, crossing her arms under her chest as a tall, dark-haired boy in a black dress shirt and pants walks out, holding a violin.

"Should we slap him awake?"

Sabrina eyes Atsumu, "Nah."

The audience is audibly holding its breath. Osamu is too, caught up in the way his classmate seems to control the atmosphere by standing there under the lights.

Some of the performers tonight seemed to be uncomfortable wearing black but Osamu thinks black suits Sakusa very well. It's like he was born to look good in expensive, tailored clothing. His pants aren't too long nor too short, it clings to him well, as does his shirt.

Sakusa shakes his left hand exactly ten times before giving his accompanist a nod.

The music starts and Sakusa flicks his wrists up.

Sabrina stiffens beside him.

"What?" Osamu whispers. He doesn't know much about music, getting all of his cues from her.

She leans forward in her seat, frowning.

Osamu hears it then, the disconnect between the piano and the violin. The accompanist isn't looking forward, he's turning his head and blinking in confusion as Sakusa continues to plow forward, his bow slashing the air angrily. 

_"What is he doing?"_

_"Isn't he the one who played with the orchestra several weeks ago? That high school junior?"_

_"He's awful."_

Sabrina turns around and shushes the group of mothers behind them, angry. Osamu continues to watch Sakusa on stage, seeing him hunch over his violin. He hasn't heard of this piece before, doesn't even know the background of it since Sabrina is too busy hushing people, but even he can tell that the piano and violin are horrendously out of time with each other.

Anger is what he gets out of the performance. 

Anger, impatience, almost like Atsumu taking off his practice bib and throwing it on the field in a tantrum, although Sakusa looks like he's trying so hard to hold off whatever explosive emotion he's storing.

Sakusa continues to play, his back hunching. Osamu blinks, thinking about bad posture as he sees a bead of sweat form on his forehead, Sakusa's finger a blur as he grimaces.

Osamu grins, almost afraid, watching the chaos. Sakusa speeds up whenever he wants to and slows down to his own fancy, the accompanist shooting him panicked looks as strands of hair dances from the top of his bow.

He turns his head to check on Atsumu, wondering if his twin is awake from all the racket of people distastefully clucking their tongue at Sakusa.

Atsumu has his entire attention on Sakusa, mouth parted, watching with a reverence that Osamu doesn't understand.

Then it hits him. He's looking at Sakusa the way he does when he first dated Sabrina but with even more intensity.

_You've got to be kidding me_ , he thinks.

The sawing becomes louder. Osamu turns his head to see two things happen almost simultaneously.

There's an audible, sharp and empty _whap_ , like someone whipped their belt onto a wall. Sakusa immediately scrunches his eyes shut as something long and silver dangles from his violin, flinching as his fingers continue to move, the audience gasping.

Sabrina stands up. She nearly trips over Osamu, getting to the aisle and running. Osamu stretches his neck to the side, seeing her small figure in front of the stage, holding her violin up.

Sakusa doesn't see her. He couldn't, with his eyes shut as he attempts to salvage his performance. He finishes the piece with a shrill ending, finally opening his eyes, slowly lowering his arm.

For a moment, no one was clapping. Then someone quietly does, before they're trickling in one by one. It's nothing like the standing ovation the pianist before he received and Sakusa doesn't seem to be listening to the half-hearted claps, staring at someone sitting closer to the stage.

Atsumu is still staring at him, voice hushed, "He's bleedin', Samu."

Osamu can see where the string had sliced his cheek open. There's red on his face. He's shaking his head at Sabrina.

Sakusa, in true soloist fashion from the many he's seen tonight, bows for the audience and walks off stage, head held high.

"'S'he okay?"

They're hanging out in the mostly empty lobby waiting for Sabrina since Osamu promised burgers.

They had caught Ellie before she left and she told them how Sabrina and Kiyoomi were seen in the green room arguing in a corner.

Kiyoomi had slouched out of one of the hallways earlier, a bandaid covering his cheek as he sets his eyes onto the door. He speedily walked to the exit where a man with a receding hairline is standing next to a young girl with curly hair, clearly waiting for him. Osamu had given Dr. Sakusa and his daughter a nod when they passed each other in the bathrooms earlier.

Osamu held his twin in place, watching father and son exchange a glance before the family left the building.

"I wanted ta talk ta him!"

Osamu released Atsumu's elbow, sighing, "Yer such a dumbass. He doesn't look like he wants to talk right now."

Atsumu sulked. Osamu decided it's a good time to update Rin on what he missed.

"Sab?" Atsumu prompts, snapping Osamu out of his thoughts, "Is he okay?"

Sabrina nods tired, eyes downcast. She'd switched out of her pumps, wearing a pair of scuffed canvas shoes. One strap of her giant backpack is cutting into her shoulder, unbalancing her.

Atsumu shuffles forward from where they've been sitting on one of the benches, putting his long arms around her. He gives her a gentle squeeze.

"He's really quitting music," She numbly says, drawing her coat around her as Atsumu volunteers to carry her violin on the way out. 

Osamu tugs on her backpack strap. She allows him to carry it, something square poking into his back. The night air is chilly and she shivers when they start heading for the parking lot.

Then she starts sniffling.

Atsumu throws him a panicked look as he flails his arms around. Osamu simply pats his pockets and pulls out some napkin he'd kept from an earlier drive thru, hoping she doesn't mind the roughness. 

"Don't cry, don't cry!"

Osamu snorts, "Yeah, like that'll work."

Sabrina chokes out a muffled laugh, grabbing the napkins from his fingers and stepping in between them to prevent a massacre, "Sorry. This is so stupid."

"Why're ya sorry?" Atsumu asks.

"...For crying. And for being emotional. I'm just. Betrayed, I guess."

"Why?"

Sabrina dabs her eyes, "I don't know. I thought we were friends, or at least close enough that he would consider me a friend. He barely talks to anyone else in orchestra you know. Everyone's scared of him but at the same time he inspires everyone else to play better."

Atsumu tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, "Well I think s'okay ta cry 'bout the things ya care about. And s'okay to cry 'bout Sakusa even if yer not tha' close ta him. He must be that good ta inspire ya." 

Osamu hums in agreement, surprised at how clear Atsumu's mind is sometimes. 

That comment seems to make Sabrina wail. 

"He is! He's so good!" She gazes up at the sky and points up, "Like, if all of us in the music school are those faint, tiny stars in terms of talent then he's the fucking sun. He has so much _potential_ and he's just throwing it all aside out of the blue. It makes me upset."

Then in a softer voice, "I wanted to play with him one last time."

"People quit hobbies..." Osamu raises his voice, watching his brother and Sabrina turn their heads around, "People quit hobbies for their own reasons."

Maybe Sakusa was tired of music but didn't want to tell anyone because he felt responsible for setting a standard everyone looks up to. Maybe he has an injury that prevents him from playing further. Maybe he realized he liked something else just slightly more and wanted to pursue it.

Or maybe he wants to quit for no rhyme or reason.

He continues, gazing into Sabrina's puffy eyes, "But ya can always look back at those memories an' be thankful that ya both had good times together, right?"

Sabrina stills.

From behind her, Atsumu looks up. Osamu clenches his hand inside his pockets, moving his eyes from her to him.

The time they spend together as twins won't be written off. He loves his brother, the one who steals his clothes and food and tickles his feet in the morning and who yells and cheers for him every time Osamu lands a three pointer. The time they spent helping each other, whether it be dodging in lacrosse or free throws in basketball, are ones that he cherishes.

He knows for a fact that if it weren't for Atsumu challenging him every turn of the way, Osamu probably wouldn't be as good he is currently in basketball.

She smiles at Osamu, stuffing her hands in her pockets, "Yeah, I guess I do. I enjoyed the times we played together in school."

"There ya go," He says, still looking at Atsumu. 

Atsumu shoots him a smirk, shaking his head. He's probably thinking what a smart ass Osamu is and how dumb he sounds for pulling such a cool line out of his ass.

Atsumu turns to Sabrina, "Ya look better with a smile on yer face, Sab."

She goes in between them and hooks her arms around their elbows, her head only coming up around their shoulders, "Thanks you two, I feel better already. We're still getting burgers, right?"

"God, yes! M'so hungry!" Atsumu moans, tugging all of them along as he starts sprinting to the car. Sabrina shrieks, screaming at how he's going to make her trip, _please think about her much shorter legs_ , "Well maybe if ya drank more milk when ya were younger— OW! Don't kick me! Abuse!"

Osamu, inhaling the winter air and feeling the wind nip at his ears, laughs.

Osamu rolls over in his bed, listening to Atsumu shuffle across the room, trying to find a comfortable spot among his blankets.

"So."

Atsumu grunts sleepily.

"Sakusa, huh? God bless his soul," He says aloud to the darkness. 

He grins when Atsumu's flings a pillow at him, pulling it down from his face and tucking it under his arm as he falls asleep.

"Samu."

At Atsumu's voice, he jerks back awake, irritated.

"What?"

The room is quiet. Osamu has a mind to strangle his brother before Atsumu whispers harshly, voice cutting across like a vengeful promise.

"I'll bet ya that I'll be the happier one."

"Challenge accepted, dickhead."

"And give me back my pillow!"

"No," Osamu curls up with it, shutting his eyes to the darkness, "'S'mine now. Losers weepers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i, a boomer, cannot figure out how to embed links in notes so here you go  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q (le cygne/"lay sig-nay")  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=686xoeQAVA4 (snapped violin string mid-concert)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AC5-62blOs (sakusa's piece)


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. two more chapters of this. next chapter will be atsumu's POV (from when he fell for sakusa until the end of this chapter) and the last will be the ending of this fic. please dont yell at me hahahahaha i was stuck in a mini writing block for the longest time since teen angst is really something

Sakusa glares at his violin case. He hugs his knees to his chest, sitting on his bed as his father stumbles around the house attempting to burn down the kitchen with a new recipe. 

He'll have to stand by ready with the mini fire extinguisher Hiromi ordered for them in a few minutes. The impending shuffle of panicked footsteps hasn't reached his ears just yet, so he sits on his bed and stares at his violin case, innocently propped up in the corner where he'd placed it before Atsumu left.

He glances at his phone. There's a Happy New Year text from his old violin teacher.

There's a crash and a panicked yell, " _Kiyoomi!_ "

Sakusa sighs and heads downstairs.

Someone is throwing pebbles at his window.

Sakusa registers this before crawling out of bed angrily. It's the last day of freedom before they're supposed to go back to school and he's not having it.

"Yo!" Osamu waves from his driveway, grinning. Sakusa squints. Suna's family car, a very grey and muddy hatchback that has seen better days, is pulled up in front of his house. Suna is waving from the driver's seat with Atsumu sitting in the back, head tilted funnily— asleep?

Sakusa rubs his eyes, checking the clock on the wall, "It's... _five_ in the god damn _morning_."

"Nothin' like celebratin' the last days of break with a lil' hike! Come on, we have waterfalls ta climb."

"I hate you all," Sakusa grumbles, leaving the window open so the winter air can circulate through his room. He grabs Hiromi's borrowed side satchel, shoving his sunscreen, cap and wallet in there. 

He scrubs his face quickly, pulling on a pair of loose joggers from Naomi and thick hiking socks on. He shoves his head through a t-shirt and layers a long sleeved thin sweater on top it, running his hands through his dark closet until his fingers comes into contact with a slippery, sleek material of a windbreaker.

He texts his father where he's going, fills his water bottle in the kitchen and dumps half the bananas and apples in the fruit bowl into his bag, running outside.

Suna gasps, twisting in his seat when Sakusa climbs into the back, hitting the interior light on. The car is warm, heater working overtime as Atsumu dozes on peacefully, head leaned against the window opposite of Sakusa, "You brought us food?"

"Aren't bananas good for sports?" Sakusa grumbles, shoving two bananas and apples each to the front half of the car. Osamu croons and immediately bites half of it in one large chomp.

Suna hits the lights off, replying, "Yes, we love potassium," while yanking the e-break up. The car starts moving forward, the GPS system softly telling Suna to get out of the suburbs and onto the closest highway.

Osamu twists in his seat, throwing the apple core into a small trash can in the middle console, "Yer sisters left already?"

"Hiromi left yesterday. Naomi and Hitomi left on New Year's Eve," Sakusa sees that most of the swelling on his face has gone away. Only a yellow-green bruise on his cheek remained.

"Feel free to nap," Suna says, pressing a button so the classic rock station plays as he turns onto the major road Atsumu takes to send them both to school, "Sleeping Beauty is also cranky we dragged him out early but come on! What better way to start the day climbing waterfalls and getting breakfast after?"

Sakusa doesn't know a better way to start the day but sleeping in as long as possible sounds good.

"Tsumu's always cranky these days, I sometimes wonder which one's worse, my Ma goin' through menopause or him," Osamu tuts, twisting back up front. Sakusa watches as he peels the banana skin off, leaning over and holding it steady for his boyfriend, "Here."

"Fhamks," Suna chews, stretching his neck as he keeps his eyes on the road. His cheeks bulge like the chipmunks in Sakusa's backyard before he swallows, "Did you finish Liu's stupid paper?"

Sakusa looks up from squeezing sunscreen out of the tube. Osamu doesn't have English until next semester, so Suna must be talking to him, "Yeah. The one on wind turbines?"

"Those questions were from last year's AP English free answer section. Does he think we party all the time or something?"

"Well."

"Don't answer that," Suna rolls his eyes at him from the mirror, "Food slave, more banana!"

Osamu snorts, leaning over the console again as Sakusa mocks Suna, "What, you hate critical thinking?"

"Yeah, I can't spare my other brain cells to actually care about something that's only worth 2% of our grades. I know I'll pass, I've calculated it all and shit, so why should I care?"

"I have Liu next semester with the lil' bitch in the backseat," Osamu sighs, "I regret everything."

"The lil' bitch," Atsumu says, opening one irritated eyelid. He tugs down the scarf covering his mouth, the split lip is still visible, "Is awake an' can hear ya."

"Good, at least yer hearin's still workin.'"

Atsumu rubs his eyes, hair sticking up like an electrocuted person as he yawns and proceeds to twist his torso. His back emits a muffled snap that makes Sakusa queasy.

"That's gross."

Atsumu turns, giving him a quiet look. Sakusa can't read what he's thinking but Atsumu just shrugs the comment away, pulling out his phone and turning on the back view camera to check his hair.

Sakusa crosses his arms and avoids the urge to punch him. He looks out the window at the passing scenery, the pine trees still dusted with snow and the road offering brown, ugly slush, his bad mood crackling over his skin like static.

In the front seat, Suna and Osamu are giving each other worried looks. Sakusa pretends to not see it.

They stop at the parking lot at the base of the hiking trail and set off.

Sakusa had been on hikes with Osamu and Suna before during the late summer and fall. The bugs were still feasting on them but now in the winter, with the clouds overcast and a certain chill snaking around their ears, it's actually nice. Mist covers the mountain ranges near them and the pine trees stand some sixty to seventy meters above them, brooding.

They talk about their future. And by they, it was mostly Sakusa and Suna, the Miyas both clammed shut when the topic floated from their school schedules to the embarrassing yet cute New Year post drunk Bokuto posted on Instagram, waxing about his boyfriend, to their future.

Future. Sakusa really hates that word. 

He used to wish he could grow up faster when he was younger. Naomi and Hitomi were so much older than him when he was born. He and Hiromi were always chasing after them, wanting to feel included. It didn't matter that he didn't give an ounce of care for the Tokyo Mew Mew re-run on TV, but he would join them and watch it anyway, because it was something families do.

And the guilt he had every day, looking in the mirror to see that his looked more like his mother day by day, made him wanted to leave the house as soon as possible.

"Forgot if you ever told us about what you're going into."

Sakusa steps on a pine cone, wobbling as he waves his arms up. Atsumu, who'd been silently trailing after him, steadies him by the elbow.

He turns to thank Atsumu, catching Osamu's irked look he's shooting his brother before spinning back to Suna, "I don't like talking to people so...I don't know. Accounting?"

" _Accounting?_ " Suna echoes.

"Or an auditor, maybe finance manager," Sakusa stares at the trail, noting the rocks that he'll have to avoid. His elbow is still burning from Atsumu's brief touch. The twins have become quiet behind him, "I'm good with numbers."

"Calculus is so gross. I came for numbers, not words _with_ numbers."

"You have to filter the words out."

"Do you even like finances?"

"A job is just a job, the goal here is to not save the world, it's to make enough money to survive," Sakusa firmly says, brushing away a fern from his face and thinking of how some days, his father comes home and sits on the breakfast bar with a tired droop to his shoulders, "I've seen what happens when you devote yourself to your job and put all your eggs in that basket."

"You have a point," Suna hums, "My dad's like that. He says engineering is just a means to money that'll supply his life with happiness in the form of hobbies."

Sakusa nods, "That's exactly it."

"I can see it, sort of, you bossing your underlings around as you're rounding up finance reports," Suna gives him a cheeky smile before it fades and a brightness enters his eyes, "Oh! We're nearly there, come on you both—" Atsumu and Osamu are having a quiet argument solely through their eyebrows, "—Let's go!"

They break through the trail, Suna racing ahead with his backpack bumping between his shoulder blades. Sakusa stretches his long legs and stares at the view of the waterfall. The rocks surrounding it are dusted with snow and ice and he carefully makes his way towards the bridge connecting them to the other side of the gorge.

Suna leans across the railings, breath coming out in puffs, "Wow."

The sun has decided that it's tired of hiding behind the clouds, shyly peeking out. Sakusa could see the way the water at the base of the fall is glimmering, taking off the cap off his head to shake his hair out. The cold wind dissipates whatever sweat gathered around his hairline.

They take pictures. Osamu and Suna make typical couple poses before needling them to get a few too.

Sakusa looks at Atsumu who hasn't said a word to him all morning, seeing his dark circles, messy hair and deciding that they'll just stand shoulder to shoulder and have Suna take a picture of them with their backs to the camera, the main focus being the waterfall.

"We should bring some food and eat up here for a bit next time," Suna says, shrugging his back pack on and herding them down the trail. Sakusa checks his phone. It's already a bit past eight, "Picnics are a thing right?"

"Why're ya askin' as if we hadn't done tha before?" Osamu asks, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek and swatting his butt fondly, "Anythin' we wanna eat?"

"Food," Came Atsumu's helpful reply.

"Nothing too greasy," Sakusa mumbles, remembering of how much oil his dad used in his stir fry noodles last night, pressing his cold hands to his neck, "Soup sounds good."

"Soup!" Suna says, "Let's get beef noodle soup!"

When the food comes out, Sakusa blows on his soup carefully before sipping a spoonful. He looks up, in search for his chopsticks so he could separate the noodles, to meet Atsumu's eyes.

He could ask what's wrong, they're semi-friends after all. Sakusa has shared a bed with him and a secret. Atsumu also has shared kisses with him and secrets of his own. How many times did they spend the drive home after school bitching about this teacher and that class and this person?

But he shouldn't care about their relationship. Everything is fake anyway, nothing mattered— he's just a means for Atsumu to get a one up on Osamu, isn't that clear, with the way Atsumu was so warm to him in the beginning and then slowly became cold?

"...Did you want some of my tendon?" He asks, one last olive branch extended.

"No," Atsumu mumbles. He lifts the tiny dish holding two spoonfuls of the house-made chili sauce meant to be shared between them, "D'ya want some?"

Sakusa makes a face, "No."

Then Atsumu, with one sweep of his spoon, dumps all of it into his bowl.

Atsumu had told him now that lacrosse season had started earnestly, he'll be cramming more morning and after school practices so Sakusa should start driving his own car.

Sakusa doesn't point out the fact that Atsumu had picked him up early once a week since he started offering rides and watched the lacrosse team run drills while he sat on the bleachers.

Everything is like a bank transfer now. He sits next to Atsumu at lunch, giving his left hand over for his to hold as he speaks to Akaashi while Atsumu jokes around with his teammates. He waves to the lacrosse players, kisses Atsumu's cheek when they have to leave during lunch for a game with his teammates cajoling their captain.

Every smile shot his way, Sakusa knows is not for him. He should stop caring. He has to. Atsumu has his crush anyway.

Still, he wears Atsumu's clean lacrosse jersey to home games and cheers for their school with Osamu, Suna and Akaashi beside him.

Sakusa swallows resentment when he checks Instagram to see the captain of the cheer team pose next to him, wanting to shove her stupid pom poms into her smiling mouth.

Perhaps they're like a bad egg. 

Hiromi taught him a trick during the summer on how to tell apart bad eggs when she realized she'll be leaving the least experience cooks by themselves as she flies off to the East Coast.

All eggs, good and bad, will look the same on the outside. 

A bad egg, when submerged in water, will float to the top. And if you hold it up to a light source, you may see a cloudy mass inside.

He and Atsumu during lunch time look like good eggs, fitting in with the crowd well, smiling at jokes, laughing when needed to.

No one can tell their cracked facade unless one of them show it.

The parties stop for a while as the school wraps up its first semester. Sakusa and Akaashi hole themselves up in each other's houses, cramming for Liu's final exam.

His phone buzzes. 

Tighty Whities [15:48]: what do you want for tmw's lunch

Akaashi hums as Sakusa stares at his phone, "He still makes you food even though he's busy? Cute."

Sakusa lowers his phone, frowning. He can't tell Akaashi that the only reason Atsumu keeps making him lunch every Friday is because of a stupid contract, "...Guess so."

"Sorry for peeking," Akaashi swiftly apologizes.

He tries not to think about the Atsumu that he shared his bed with, the one who steals his crispy fries and who had laughed himself hoarse during the ski trip, the one that sings very poorly on their drives back home from parties. 

If he does, his eyes will start prickling.

_You've ruined me_ , he thinks, _I was fine before you came along_.

"It's okay," Sakusa punches in his answer and flips his phone upside down so it won't distract him again. He goes back to reviewing the novels they've studied in class, trying to find a common theme Liu might want them to write.

Me [15:48]: i can bring my own lunch tomorrow

The seniors suffer for an entire week to prepare and write their finals. Atsumu barely sees the twins during that period, mostly spending his time studying with Akaashi and Suna since they all share some classes together.

He avoids Atsumu. Whenever he sees him in the hallways, he pretends to be busy unless his name is called, something foul gathering at the back of his throat during the lunch times he has to spend next to him.

The twins, sometimes, when Sakusa would leave school at five, are still running drills on the turf field. Currently, they're running back and forth between one end of the field to the other. Suicide runs, Sakusa remembers, was Atsumu's particular punishment to the team when they're rowdy.

"Osamu is helping Atsumu out a lot," Akaashi says as they trek from the building to the student parking lot.

Suna whistles, spinning his car keys around one finger, "Yeah, they've always helped and stayed behind for each other since little."

When their first semester ends, Sakusa sleeps and goes to Kumon to help kids with math, waiting for his phone to light up with Atsumu's message of parties they have to attend.

Nothing shows up.

When the manager of the Kumon branch he teaches asks if he could take more shifts, Sakusa agrees.

At the beginning of the second semester, the seniors have to sit down with a random teacher in the library and provide their five year plan. They either pass by answering questions with minimum effort regarding their plans post-graduation or fail if they don't show up and skip the interviews all together.

Atsumu tells them about his experiences during lunch, how he was forced to miss half of Liu's English class because someone from the girl's swim team panicked and stumbled through her interview and took twice as a long.

"What're ya gonna say when they ask what yer doin?'"

He swallows the snark he wants to say deep into his throat, as far down as he could shove.

Sakusa shrugs, putting away the fried noodle container Atsumu had given him earlier into his bag so he can wash it and return it on Monday. He licks the sauce off his mouth— a mix of mirin, soy sauce, kecap manis, oyster sauce and sriracha ("I was experimentin.'"), "Finance."

Atsumu had told his interviewer that he's still aiming for lacrosse despite his parent's wishes. 

The seniors start to scatter, some fanning themselves with the college brochures they'll show their interviewer. Sakusa has one in his backpack of the local university in the state. He just wants to get the day over with and start reading the Barron's AP guide since he'll be taking four exams in May.

"Don't ya think yer avoidin' a lot of yer problems, Sakusa?"

Sakusa looks up, zipping his backpack closed. Atsumu blinks evenly at him, wearing a black hoodie with an edgy phrase printed on the front, _Who needs memories._

"What do you mean?"

"I think yer not realizin' how lucky ya are. Yer talented, ya can afford to move to New York and study at _tha' school_ , all ya need is ta tell yer Dad."

Sakusa feels a simmering heat around his chest, radiating outwards. He stands swiftly, watching Atsumu slowly get to his feet.

"Drop that right now, _Miya,_ " The first thing they speak about after a weird dance around each other for a month is Atsumu harping him about Juilliard?

"I can tell yer dyin' go to back ta orchestra!" Atsumu walks along with him, hissing under his breath like a snake. Sakusa wishes his hearing isn't so good, weaving past the tables as several juniors look in their direction with interest, sniffing for a fight. Atsumu smoothly dances around a girl running in the hallway, pacing after him. "Why don't you go to Anderson and ask if you can join again? Sab would love to have you back."

Sakusa whirls around, Atsumu's reflexes saving him from breaking his nose on his chin, "Why don't you mind your own business? My future has nothing to do with you."

It's true. Their paths will converge and then separate. He wants to shove Atsumu into the lockers and threaten him to shut up because—

Because Atsumu's right. All he needed to do is stop avoiding the inevitable but he'd always been a coward, always picked the path that offered the least resistance in an effort to keep his family life at home the least turbulent for his father.

The egg shell cracks.

"I didn't think ya were such a coward."

Sakusa stops, one hand on the library door, looking down at the pink arm of the hoodie his father bought, knowing that below the fabric was his wrist and median nerve that gets compressed every now and then when he practices too hard.

He glares at the handle, seeing the scuffs around the curve where it'd slam open against the wall beside it, "Why does it _matter?_ We're going our separate ways after this anyway." 

"...I guess yer right," Atsumu's voice says. His voice comes out fainter, like he's walking away from Sakusa, "Good luck I guess, see ya on Monday."

It doesn't register until Sakusa is sitting on a wall of chairs outside the sectioned off area of the library, listening to Cathy Sabourin's voice float in the stuffy room, about her dream to enter culinary school after graduation, that Atsumu had walked him all the way to the library when his next class was upstairs in the opposite side of the school.

Sakusa leans forward, elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to think about Atsumu.

Suddenly, misery is his company and he when he finishes his interviews, he takes the rest of the school day off and drives home. When he walks in, his father looks up from the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, "Kiyoomi? You're home early."

He is. It's not even two in the afternoon yet.

"You too."

"My clinics finished early today, not a lot of pregnant women in February."

Sakusa drops his bag on one of the breakfast bar stools, slouching on the one next to it. He watches his dad wash his hands, passing him a cup of water.

He takes minuscule sips, "You're going to get a phone call from the school about my absence in third and fourth period."

Sakusa's father shrugs, going back to wash some bones. The instant pot is out, he must be making soup, "It's not the end of the world if you skip class or get one failing grade."

"Did _you_ get a failing grade?"

"I nearly had to drop out of medical school due to pharmacology," He says matter-of-factly. Sakusa's mouth drops, "Sometimes no matter how much effort you put into something, it may just not click. But it's okay in the end because no one achieves success in one go."

"What happened to you then?"

"I was put on a probational pass. Entering my third year, I had to pass all of my exams or else they would kick me out. It's a threat I took very seriously."

Sakusa digests that for a bit, watching his father drop the clean bones into the pot, putting enough water to cover them entirely before locking the lid shut.

"Ah," His father hums, turning around as the Instant Pot counts down the minutes. Sakusa jumps, "Your sister bought a Bluray movie and had it shipped here by mistake instead of her dorm."

He gestures to the coffee table in the living room. Sakusa stands, walking over and looking at the cover curiously.

"The Garden of Words," He reads. The cover depicts two people sitting under a pavilion— why is the woman barefooted? "Does she want us to mail it to Boston?"

"She really wanted to but she said she should just keep it here or else she won't get any studying done."

Sakusa snorts, typical. He decides to open the case, walking to the DVD and Bluray player. He feeds the disc in and changes the movie settings to the original audio.

Before pressing play, he decides to go upstairs and shower, slipping into his rattiest sweatpants and biggest t-shirt he owns, throwing on a black hoodie.

He immediately raises his eyebrow when he sees the first frame appear, raindrops falling on a still surface, the water rippling.

The trains pass. Rain falls on a daffodil. The automated voice calling out Shinjuku Station.

His father sighs, from his left, " _Natsukashii_."

He sees a smile appear on his father's face. Gentle, tinged with sadness and memories he doesn't have.

Sakusa hugs his knees to his chest and tunes everything out, turning his attention to the TV.

When the credits roll, Sakusa feels his wet cheeks in bewilderment. 

A boy chasing the adult world, feeling like he's stuck in a childish place. The piano, the subtle glances of the characters, the little under tones of feeling nostalgia even if he never lived in Tokyo or visited Shinjuku Garden in the first place— it all left him with a sense of fullness, like he just ate a very good meal.

He and his father had bone soup for dinner that night. Sakusa heaps bones and meatballs into his bowl, trying to slurp the marrow out, thinking about two people crossing paths momentarily, briefly and how an insignificant stranger helped someone walk.

He understood the want for rain, for respite, a pause in an uphill battle.

He trudged upstairs, left his door open and put his expensive headphones over his ears, playing the piano soundtrack from the movie on his violin as he licked the leftover salt off his mouth.

He thinks about Atsumu, about how they'd slotted perfectly with each other at first. He remember thinking how easy being in a relationship was, it was just like hanging out with a best friend nearly every day and sometimes exchanging facts about yourself.

And like everything the world gives, challenges rise. Atsumu feel so far away from him right now.

He stops playing, lowering his bow.

_"I didn't think ya were such a coward."_

He's in the middle of reading out loud the numbers on the screen of their multimeter, Akaashi scribbling it down on their worksheet in Kaur's chemistry lab.

Kaur, who had been walking around the lab answering questions about their lab, pauses when two younger students carrying boxes enter, wearing headbands decorated with hearts.

Sakusa suddenly feels cold, watching the girls introduce themselves, walking around and handing roses to the seniors.

He mumbles a thanks, receiving the single vibrant blue rose wrapped in some light blue paper and recognizing Atsumu's chicken scratch with his name on the little card tied around the middle.

He opens the card.

_to my little crab  
_ _happy vday_

The class laughs as Akaashi receives not one large bouquet of red roses from Bokuto, but seven other ones containing single roses like his. 

He completely forgot about Valentine's Day. He completely, utterly, forgot about buying roses during the first week back for school, too caught up with his own life.

Sakusa traces Atsumu's penmanship, "little crab" had looked like it was written carefully.

"How did he...." Akaashi smiles fondly at the roses, touching the red petals gently.

Sakusa thought about effort again. Bokuto probably e-transferred one of them money and asked very nicely to help him out since he's miles and miles away.

Atsumu has an away game today. In fact, Sakusa had peeked out of their lab windows and saw the school bus chugging away several minutes ago. It probably wouldn't have made a difference if he got Atsumu one since they hand out roses during fourth period anyway.

But still. The effort. The weekly lunches, the hand sanitizer, the playlists in the car, the unspoken moments of kindness, the designated driver, how Atsumu always shielded him away from the crowds at parties.

Even if this is fake, there's still effort. What has Sakusa done for him in comparison? Housed him because Atsumu had nowhere else to go in the middle of winter? Anyone could've done that.

Even if it's something so simple that has a clear ending date, there's still effort.

" _Fuck_ ," He whispers, clutching onto his rose, the bright blue petals in full bloom.

He's an idiot, isn't he?

"What's wrong?" Akaashi's voice floats into his ear. When Sakusa looks up, his lab partner is frowning, concerned.

"I really," He laughs a little, looking down at the rose as his heart squeezes, " _Really_ like him."

Sakusa spends the entire weekend conflicted, pacing in his room and blasting his old pieces for background music.

He slaps his cheeks together and sits down on his bed, wondering if the person Atsumu likes is him and immediately recoiling.

How conceited of him.

He looks at the blue rose in the vase he stole from the hallway. The petals are still a vibrant shade of the sky. 

Atsumu wouldn't like him anyway, he's clearly staying away. But they were getting along well at first. Did that mean anything? Is he being too selfish, twisting his thoughts until he's convinced Atsumu likes him?

He mopes about his feelings, rolling back and forth on his bed when he realizes his dad has been hovering at the door.

Sakusa stops mid-roll.

"Uh. I said lunch is ready."

"Oh," He jumps to his feet, sulking, "Right."

February passes in a slow daze of rain, gloom and wet turf fields and their basketball team losing whatever high school league they're a part of. Osamu didn't seem to sad about it during lunchtime, glad that he has time to just play basketball for fun now.

They're still not talking. At school, Sakusa shoves his feelings into his chest and clamps a lid on it. He's angry and frustrated whenever he sees the twins now, taking long detours to avoid them.

The lacrosse team stays clear of him, sensing something bad between him and Atsumu. He perhaps only see Atsumu during lunch time now for a few minutes at a time before he makes an excuse to slink off outside if it's not raining.

Atsumu doesn't stop him. He only loosens their fingers and gives him a quiet, muted smile as Sakusa stands.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" He hisses under his breath, slamming his locker open.

"Are...you okay?" 

He looks up, switching his physics textbook for history. Sabrina's wide eyes are concerned, her mouth curved down.

"Why are you asking?" He closes his locker shut and hooks the lock in. He zips his jacket up to his throat, needing to trek outside and get rained on if he wants to eat in the car, February turning into March.

He'd expected to do that at the start of the school year anyway, Hiromi graduated last year and he didn't really have any friend groups established.

Sabrina only looks at him with a tiny frown on her face before she pinches the material of his windbreaker with her forefinger and thumb, tugging lightly, "Come with me."

"Where?" He stumbles, being yanked around as they take a right and walk down the music hallway. The freshmen are stumbling out of intro band, they pass them until Sabrina opens a door and gestures him to go inside.

Sakusa refuses, glowering, "I'm _not_ singing."

"I'm not forcing you to sing," She insists, nudging the back of his knees so they buckle. Sakusa nearly headbutts the door, stumbling in as she herds him to the wall behind the piano and drags a stool over, "Sit. Say hi to the senior chamber choir."

Then she hands him a folder of sheet music and walks away.

He stares at her in disbelief as the choir conductor blinks at him, very confused. Sabrina walks onto a set of risers on Sakusa's far right, nudging her neighbor so they can share music.

Several orchestra students are also in the choir are whispering. The entire choir is staring at him, bafflement clear on their faces. Sakusa catches something about Sabrina bringing in another stray dog.

They're not giggling at least, which is a good sign.

Sakusa sulks in his chair as Mrs. Anderson plays some chords on the grand piano and tells them to warm up. 

He pulls out a thermos of soup from last night's dinner and quietly sips it, spreading the sheet music across his lap as he watches Sabrina and who he assumes is the alto section leader, point out flaws.

He looks around at the room too, only having peeked inside a couple of times when he was in orchestra and had to borrow extra chairs from here. There's a large window that faces the track— all the music rooms have that in common, a view of the track— sunlight streaming in. Someone had cracked open a window and he could hear faintly the chatter of kids kicking a ball in the sunshine.

He drifts his eyes over to Sabrina, who gives him a small, apologetic smile from where she stands.

_I'm sorry,_ she mouths.

He shakes his head, _don't be, thank you_.

After the lunch rehearsal wraps up, she immediately zooms over to his side, eyes glimmering, "The music's good, right?"

He'd always liked her when he was back in orchestra, nodding, "I like the Lacrimosa. Good chords."

"Same!" She leans in closer, a conspiring look to her tone, "Our teacher is an Eric Whitacre stan so I'm glad we're singing something else for once."

He doesn't know who that is, "Ah."

Sabrina grabs her bag from where the rest of the choir kids have dumped them along the wall he was sitting on, "What's your next class?"

"History. James."

"Ugh, had him last semester, a total bore. Atsumu slept in his class so many times."

He opens the door for her, feeling cheerful for the first time in weeks and joining the stream of people in the hallway, "I bet he did. James isn't the best teacher."

"At least everything he writes shows up in his exams, which is something I can appreciate. Hey," She suddenly says, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Several people tsk with annoyance, moving around them, "Um, chamber choir's singing a piece that has a violin intro and we need an accompanist."

He blinks. Sabrina is really short, he's bending his neck down further than he has to when he speaks with Atsumu, "You're not playing?"

"It's my last year here, I want to sing instead," She fiddles with her hair, a nervous tick, "Mrs. A's gonna ask someone from orchestra if they'd like to volunteer but.... It'd be nice if you could play, I've always admired your sound."

"Really?"

She nods, trying to weave back a strand of hair she pulled out from her fishtail braid, "Really," She says softly, "I was in the dumps when you pulled out of orchestra after winter break last year."

"Oh."

Sabrina gives him a little nervous laugh, "Yeah. Lame, isn't it?"

Sakusa swallows, "...I actually regret quitting," He shoves his hands into his jacket, tucking his chin behind the soft-shell collar, "...I can be your accompanist."

Sabrina opens and close her mouth like a fish, spluttering, "What? Really? No take backs!"

He grins at her behind the collar of his jacket, "Of course not. I keep my word."

She laughs, the hallway is almost empty now, "Well, I'll tell you this, Kiyoomi, you can always take back your word if you want to come back to orchestra."

"You're still coming to Florida, right?"

Sakusa stares, watching Suna hand him a sheet music. He flips through it, seeing the solo part for the piece Sabrina mentioned earlier in the week.

He looks around Suna at the car parked beside his house, "You drove all the way here to ask me that?"

"Well, Sabrina handed the sheet music off to Atsumu but he refused to come here but she was really insistent on having you have it before spring break starts. What's going on with you and Atsumu by the way, are two you alright?" Suna invites himself in, not that Sakusa really stops him, shuffling to the hallway closet for guest slippers before plopping that on the hardwood. 

Suna steps into them, sniffing the air, "I smell cheese."

"Lasagna. Want some?"

"I will shit my brains out but _hell_ _yes_ , gimme."

Sakusa leads him into the kitchen, placing the sheet music on the corner of the breakfast bar and taking a plate from the cupboard. He inspects it to make sure there's no oily residue even if he hand-washed every one, placing it down and grabbing the spatula to nudge a section out of the casserole dish.

Suna happily digs in, stuffing mouthful after mouthful as he wiggles in his seat. Sakusa goes back to his own plate before the doorbell interrupted him, glancing at the small carry on he packed and set near the door since their flight to Florida is in the early morning.

"Where's your dad?"

"Out to get coffee with his work friend."

"Oh...." Sakusa sees Suna slowly stopping, shoving his food onto one side of his cheek. _Here it comes,_ he braces himself. 

"Y'know, not to be presumptuous," Suna starts, "But Akaashi and Bokuto are totally fine. I know long distance is hard but I mean, you wouldn't know if you didn't try it right? Don't quit before you start."

Is that what everyone thinks is wrong with them? Long distance?

"I get it though, Yale is pretty far away from here," Suna states, lowering his fork and using one of the metal prongs to drag the cheese on the top around, "But I guess my words don't have that much meaning since Samu and I are off to UCLA together."

"Congratulations."

"I'm not trying to rub it in."

Sakusa shrugs.

"Sakusa?"

"Hm?"

"Atsumu really likes you."

Sakusa looks up at that, arching an eyebrow.

Suna continues, standing up from the breakfast bar and heading to the stove where Sakusa had put the dish on the burner. When he points to the lasagna, Sakusa waves, giving him the okay to have seconds, "I've been friends with them for a long time. Atsumu's a bitch for sure, really hard to handle and an all round difficult person when he's really stubborn but I've literally never seen him be so into someone until you came along. He's changed. He's nicer. He's a better person these days.

"Trust me," Suna softly says, twisting around and leaning on the counter top next to the stove, "We've seen him go through a lot of relationships."

That didn't make him feel rotten at all. Sakusa looks at his own lasagna, only half-eaten, not feeling hungry anymore.

After a few seconds of his silence, Suna sighs, "You didn't like the tickets after all I guess?"

"What tickets?"

Suna moves his mouth wordlessly. He blinks, "The _tickets_."

"What. Tickets." Sakusa, annoyed, repeats.

"The tickets to the orchestra!" Suna points an accusing finger at him, "Sabrina's mom had extra tickets to a sold out concert and she gave it to him so you both could go! She said you'd appreciate the shit they're playing that night, something like Brush and Mackner!"

Something in his chest inflates and deflates before he has a chance to pinpoint the feeling, "... _Bruckner_ and _Mahler?_ "

"Yeah! Yeah!"

Sakusa is having an aneurysm. He's remembering a forgotten memory he had in Orchestra 9, sitting in a circle with all the other violin players. He and Sabrina were the only people who said they liked Mahler when they introduced themselves. That was perhaps the start of their friendship.

Suna is mumbling about how Sabrina is going to go on a murder spree and chop all of their heads when she finds out the tickets went to waste.

"It's not your fault," Sakusa mutters, slouching his shoulders. When he sees the phone in Suna's hand, he adds, "Don't say anything, I'll....I'll talk to him myself tomorrow."

As Suna puts his phone away, Sakusa stops, "Hey, do you know anyone from student council?"

Suna says this around a mouhtful of cheese, "Yeah, my bio buddy is one."

"How come the roses aren't dying?" Sakusa frowns. He'd placed the stem in a vase of water by his bedside and expected the petals to start wilting and dropping after two weeks. A month later, it's still looking as perfect as it did on the day he received it.

"Oh, they sold two version this year," Suna scratches his head, turning pink, "Normal ones and 'eternal' ones that last six months. I don't know how they manage to keep the roses alive that long but Tsumu opted for the more expensive one."

Suna goes home after Sakusa sends him off with some lasagna for his little sister, waving from the door as his car disappears around the block. 

Sakusa cleans the kitchen, scrubs the plates, puts them in the dishwasher to dry and takes the sheet music with him upstairs.

He wiggles on a thumb splint, making sure it has enough give that he can comfortably curve his hand around the neck before sight reading the music as he listened to a recording of the song. It's nothing too hard, he could have probably sight read it the day of the concert if he wanted.

He sighs, setting the violin down on his desk before collapsing on his bed.

He scrolls through his very short list of contacts, shutting the lights off while turning on the lamp by his bedside table.

" _Hello?_ "

Sakusa stares at his ceiling as the light reflects off the fifty something pictures he has stuck on the wall, "Sabrina, what did Atsumu do when he liked you?"

" _...What did he do?_ " He can hear the confusion in her voice.

"Like," He impatiently huffs, "Did he get you flowers or something?"

" _Oh god I'm so glad someone finally figured out how much their boyfriends likes them. Ummm,_ " She draws the word out, " _Yeah, no he didn't buy me flowers. I don't like them. But he always agreed to go to random cafes that I thought were cute and waited for me to finish taking pictures before we start eating._ "

That just sounds like what he has to sit through when his sisters visit, "Is that all?"

" _What's this about?_ " There's a sound of shuffling before Sakusa hears her sigh, waiting for his silence to break, " _Kiyoomi, I can't help you if I don't know the reason you're calling. As much as I like to think we're best friends, you're not the type to call someone out of the blue, I'm sure._ "

He's not a snitch.

"Sometimes I have trouble knowing if he's...serious."

" _Like, you don't know if he's really invested in you?_ "

_Sure_ , "Yeah."

" _Oh, trust me_ , _he really likes you, he's just too chicken to say that it loud. He never made me food._ "

Sakusa squirms uncomfortably. The food is part of the contract. The hugs and casual touches were part of the contract.

It was useless to think about whether he was being nice to Sakusa out of the little shard of goodness in his heart that hadn't shrunk or if he was putting on a show to shove his relationship in Osamu's face.

He was leaning on the latter nowadays. Atsumu has been ignoring him since winter break. Sakusa holds the hand not holding his phone up, thinking about how resentlful he's been the past month whenever Atsumu touched him.

Everything is confusing.

"— _Gave Osamu an aneurysm_ ," Sabrina goes on, " _He texted me asking what kind of person doesn't know how to press a button on a rice cooker and that he's disowning him for boiling rice in a pot. And then there was that time he asked me for help and I firmly told him, FIRMLY, that no he can't substitute gochugaru with paprika!_ "

"Sabrina?"

" _Hm?_ "

"...What do you do when you have stage fright?"

What do you do when you're afraid to tell someone how you feel?

" _You're going to think my answer is stupid._ "

"No, I won't," He says, baffled.

" _...I think about playing for one person, whether that be my stand partner or a tired mom sitting in the first row about to fall asleep. It takes...the edge of a bit, makes me forget that I have to perform when I can just play._ "

"...I see, thank you."

She senses the conclusion of the call, "... _No problem. You're going to Florida with Akaashi right? Careful of the heat, I heard it's really hot_."

"Yeah I've packed sunscreen already, can't say the same about the others though."

She laughs, " _Bye, Sakusa_. _Enjoy some sunshine for us._ "

"Sure. Bye, Chen."

He drags his phone off his ear and looks at the ceiling, thinking about the times he'd given Atsumu puzzled looks for drinking milk and abstaining from drinks at parties, humming tunelessly to whatever the radio would be playing during the drive to and from school, the rough, uneven chunks of garlic and julienned carrots that tasted appetizing even if it looked otherwise.

He sits up, looking at his desk. His violin is resting next to a black journal with a single gold star on the cover. 

His brain is rattling with information. And well, Hiromi had always told him that he could pretend the journal was her, didn't she?

He tucks his violin away and grabs the journal, flipping past the doodles of the tree outside his window and the little check boxes of applications he had to send to the schools he was interested in.

A new page. He uncaps the pen he took from Hiromi's room and begins to write.

Because they're on the northwestern tip of USA and Miami is on the opposite side of the country, the flight takes seven and a half hours.

Sakusa, who stayed up all night writing until his hand cramped and only slept for two hours before the five o'clock flight (he seriously considered murdering Akaashi when his alarm buzzed and proceeded to struggle to the bathroom to wash his face), knocked out on the flight until Osamu had shaken him awake.

Sakusa had been given a window seat. Atsumu was supposed to be beside him but he switched tickets Suna, who was sitting in front of them. Akaashi is to his right, looking miserable as he tries to cram his knees into economy class.

Sakusa hobbles out of the plane, drowsy, very hungry and wanting to take a shower right there and then. Akaashi rounds them up, gets them across security, buys all of them iced coffee and teas from the nearest Starbucks and heads for a car rental counter.

They'll only be there for five days so they split up when they hit the grocery store. Akaashi had sensed Sakusa's plight and hooked their elbows together, going to the bread section as they contemplated the different selections.

"You know," Akaashi starts, dropping three packages of whole wheat bagels into their shopping cart. Sakusa turns from where he was reading the ingredients list of a nearby muffin selection, trying to see if there are any strawberries in it, "If you want to know what long distance is like, you can ask me."

Akaashi shoots him an uncertain smile. Sakusa gives him a small twist of his head, nodding.

It's past lunch time when they emerge out of the grocery store laden with heavy paper bags. Akaashi leads them to a drive in and they all sit on the curb or inside the car with the doors open, eating burgers and basking in the heat like cats.

Sakusa watches Atsumu from the corner of his eyes. He looks very tired, hair flat and tapping a nervous beat with his feet. He's fiddling on his phone since they've split up unevenly— Osamu and Suna are passing their sodas back and forth and Akaashi is pointing out to him a cloud that looks like a cat.

"Well, I guess we should go."

They throw away their wrappers and hustle back into the rental. Sakusa looks out the car windows at the palm trees passing by. The air is harder to breathe here since it's so humid but he feels sure of his feelings.

They get to the vacation house— a private section of land in Key Largo with a bungalow, a wrap around porch, some uncontrolled shrubs and according to Akaashi, their own private beach.

The bungalow has low ceilings of exposed beams painted in an off-white shade that Sakusa nearly hits if he straightens. The kitchen has outdated appliances that's serviceable with gauzy curtains covering the windows. The floorboards are a faint, warm grey. Picture frames of a small Akaashi with his parents cover every single flat surface.

It's cozy. 

Akaashi calls dibs on the master bedroom. Sakusa quietly unpacks in the yellow bedroom with Atsumu, both of them still not speaking to each other. The bed is a queen so they have ample room to stretch out.

Sakusa volunteers to be on cleaning duty with Akaashi as the twins and Suna take care of dinner. He hums to the songs Akaashi has on his phone, scrubbing the toilet and shower clean and using his slippers to kill a giant mosquito the size of a small plate.

They eat outside on the porch facing the ocean, the sunset in shades of orange and pinks. Sakusa looks down at his plate— a perfectly fine serving of fried rice that he'd eaten before and wonders why the vegetables look too neat, like someone else had chopped them.

He doesn't go into the ocean for a swim but he changes into his board shorts— plain black with tiny palm trees in neon colors— sitting on the beach chair and digging his toes into the warm sand as he watches the twins trying to dunk each other into the water.

Sakusa slips on his earbuds and nods off here and there, tired from a day of travelling and scrubbing. He wakes up once to see everyone in the ocean, their jackets and shirts in a pile near him.

He takes a picture of the sunset and the four figures in water before sending it to the chat with his sisters. Naomi sends a selfie of her cocooned in a blanket with the caption, _lucky, i'm here writing a proposal._

Hitomi sends a selfie of her on a beach, covered in sand as she poses on a behind the scenes of a shoot in Lisbon, _ayyy enjoy the beach life!_

Hiromi doesn't answer, Sakusa thinks she's cramming for some test or the other.

"Hey, d'ya have a moment?"

Sakusa looks up to Osamu dripping wet from head to toe in sea water. He shrugs, tugging out his ear buds and watching Osamu pat a towel free of sand before ruffling his hair semi-dry.

"How's the water?"

"Really warm, ya sure ya don't wanna have a dip?" Osamu and Atsumu sound very similar but Sakusa's been with Atsumu long enough to pick apart how he talks.

"I'm fine. I don't like the ocean."

"But ya like beaches," Osamu laughs, sitting on the sand next to Sakusa. He misses the widening of Sakusa's eyes, "Samu tol' me. Those things exist together y'know? Anyway, erm, I wanted ta thank ya."

"For what?"

Osamu shrugs, "Puttin' up with my brother, puttin' up with our parents actin' like the way they are ta him, fer housin' him during winter break, the list goes on."

Sakusa digs his toes into the sand, feeling the cooler sand below. He wraps his arms around himself, the warm breeze picking up.

Sakusa is reminded of his brief stint in AP psychology where he listened to the teacher ramble on about the role of environment in shaping personalities. The twins grew up in the same house with the same parents, but that's where the line draws.

Atsumu latched onto lacrosse and was vicious when anyone disturbed his practices. He carried himself like he demanded attention, like he's the ace up someone's sleeve and he knew it.

Osamu was not the weaker one but he was more thoughtful between the two. He grounded Atsumu and pulled him back into orbit when his brother threatened on losing himself, always in the background watching carefully.

And now Sakusa thinks he's being read perfectly.

Osamu sighs, his shoulders collapsing. He looks weary, "'M afraid one day he'll get aheada himself an' ruin the one good thing in his life tha' he has."

He quirks his mouth up, giving Osamu a grimace.

"He's much happier," Osamu looks up with Atsumu's golden eyes staring at Sakusa, a faint hint of a smile on his mouth, "So thank ya, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa stares at the other twin.

The Miyas had enrolled both twins in Japanese school but due to the small class sizes, Atsumu had been separated and sent to the class next door, sulking and pouting the entire time. 

Yes, he'd like Osamu, crushed on him for years, but when he looks at his black undercut and grey bangs, at the steady calmness he holds himself, Sakusa wishes he was sitting with the twin with bleached hair, infuriating smirk and perfectionist tendencies.

All of the sudden, he wonders why he ever liked Osamu in the first place.

They fall asleep without saying a word to each other. Sakusa is too cowardly and exhausted from travelling to breach the topic, hoping things will be better tomorrow.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night to Atsumu slowly slithering out of his hold, he continues to breathe slowly as his pulse sky rockets.

A breeze blows into the open window of their yellow bedroom. Atsumu sits up, the mattress springs creaking slightly and adjusts the blankets so Sakusa is covered up.

Sakusa waits, wondering if he's gone down the hall to pee. When he doesn't return after several minutes, Sakusa peeks out of the room and sees Atsumu's bleached hair poking out from one end of the couch.

Oh.

He's being abandoned.

Sleep is hard to come after that.

When he blearily wakes up, he's surprised to see Atsumu snoring softly next to him, one leg poking out of the blanket, Sakusa sweating as he's cuddled.

He feels a surge of irritation, wanting to shake Atsumu awake and demand what game he's playing at but also wanting him to sleep further.

A soft knock sounds at the door. Sakusa looks up, knowing Atsumu is a light sleeper, "Quietly."

Akaashi cracks open the door slightly, raising his eyebrows at them as he grins, the sun coming in from the window throwing his smile in sharp relief, "We're thinking of going snorkeling later, I'll tell the others you two are still sleeping."

"Thanks."

Akaashi closes the door and Sakusa relaxes again. He looks at the way Atsumu has drooled onto the pillow, the way his chest slowly rises and falls with the sea breeze enveloped around the room.

Sakusa slides his eyes shut and burrows his face into Atsumu's chest, not caring that he'll be even sweatier with the blanket bundled around him. His throat is thick from words that he needs to tell Atsumu, not knowing if his feelings are really reciprocated.

Even if Sabrina and Osamu and Akaashi has been fooled, none of them really knows Atsumu like the way Atsumu knows himself. There's a chance that he'll be rejected.

"Mmm," Atsumu sighs, snuggling him.

Sakusa caves into Atsumu, wrapping his arms around his trim waist and pretending that this is real.

Atsumu slithers out of his arms that night again to sleep on the couch, but when Sakusa wakes up after some hours, Atsumu is always back, cuddling him.

Their days are spent playing badminton on the grassy lawn of the bungalow, peering through Akaashi's baby pictures as they all suck on ice creams on the couch, watching on demand movies at night. They even manage to get a volleyball net set up, playing two on two and trailing sand into the house.

It's fun, Sakusa laughs, watching Suna dump sand down Atsumu's shirt on an overcast day, seeing him swing Suna up and dump him into the water.

They kayak the next day in a mangrove forest. Sakusa is sweating profusely and guzzles down water like there's no tomorrow, the sun mocking him.

The heat is unbearable even if they're doing it at sunset. Akaashi is all droopy in the front where he's following their guide, his ears red from the sun.

Sakusa regrets wearing long sleeves, shivering when his skin breaks out in goose bumps just as they return to their starting point, dragging the kayaks out of the water. 

Everyone is red in the face and fanning themselves with their t-shirts and tank-tops when he stumbles out of the rental shop.

Atsumu glances at him before frowning, voice urgent and low, " _Omi_."

Sakusa turns from where he's crouched outside the kayak rental shop, oddly tired, "Huh?" He stands, blinking when his vision goes black and hearing the ocean in his ears.

Atsumu catches him with a flat line on his mouth. He ignores Sakusa's thrashing and throws him on his back, hustling the group back home where they have water.

Sakusa feels his cheeks heat, his stomach going up and down as Atsumu piggy-backs him to the rental car.

Akaashi raises all their windows and turns the AC on high, cold air blasting into Sakusa's face. Sakusa tries to keep himself awake throughout the entire car ride, feeling his head pulse in the beginning of a headache as Suna and Osamu are furiously googling his symptoms.

Atsumu refuses to believe he can walk on his own and carries him from the car inside the house.

"It's just heat exhaustion—"

"Shut up."

Sakusa's dumped in the bathtub he scrubbed on their first night here and watches as Suna and Atsumu work to cool him off by placing cold towels on his skin.

"That's not necessary—"

They both tell him to shut up again. 

Osamu pops by, cracking open several bottles of sport drinks and handing them out, looking slightly sunburnt as he joins them in the already cramped bathroom, "It's ninety-seven degrees outside. Make sure ya drink this, kay?"

Osamu then goes back outside to continue making dinner and drags Suna out with him.

Atsumu sits on the tiles. They don't talk, not that Sakusa wants to with his head still spinning.

Atsumu does help him tilt his head up, forcing him to sip on the drink every few minutes as he switches the towels. Osamu comes by with a tray of ice cubes and Atsumu holds them on Sakusa's overheating skin.

Sakusa has Atsumu where he wanted— alone, with no one to bother them. There's already a tray of food on the tiles, Atsumu is waiting until Sakusa could hold his neck up properly before giving it to him.

Akaashi comes by, fretting about whether they should take him to an emergency room.

Sakusa firmly says no but gives up his phone to Atsumu when he calls his father.

His father sounds worried but says that based on how he sounds and looks (they turned on video call), Sakusa probably just needs rest.

Sakusa eats his curry in the darkness of the yellow bedroom, the windows open wide to let the slightly cooler breeze brush against his skin. His nose is starting to itch in what he knows is a sunburn.

He falls asleep with the plate wedged onto the small side table. When he wakes up, Atsumu is sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, face lit by the light from his phone.

No, no it's not Atsumu, Sakusa blinks, grey hair coming into focus.

"Hey, how're ya feelin?'"

"Like shit," He closes his eyes and rubs them, wanting Atsumu instead of Osamu, "Where's your brother?"

"Says he'll take the couch t'night, I jus' wanted ta check in if you needed anythin.'"

"I'm ok, thanks."

Osamu tells him that there's water next to him and some painkillers if his headache gets too bad. He then waves and exits the room.

There's a fire pit outside on the private beach and his friends take turn bringing him smores and making sure he's drinking lots of sports drinks, sitting in the darkness.

Atsumu never visits. Sakusa looks outside at the ocean when he catches Osamu's hushed voice hiss at his brother.

He pretends not to hear it, sliding his eyes shut and sinking into the pillows.

He's given the option to stay in or come jet-skiiing with them the next day. Sakusa firmly says no and tells them they don't need to baby sit him, having the entire house to himself as he sits on the touch and scrolls through the TV channels.

When they come back, he singles Atsumu out after dinner, tugging him away from the fire pit as they take a walk near the shore. Atsumu allows the waves to tickle over his bare feet, the wind whipping his hair around as Sakusa stands to his left, feet dry.

"How're ya feelin?'"

Sakusa's heart loosens at the familiar lilt of his voice. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his short sleeved hoodie, watching the hoodie string wave back and forth, "Better."

Atsumu hums, "Good."

Sakusa's stomach is in knots. 

He wrote a lot that night after he ended his phone call with Sabrina.

He wrote and wrote all the things Atsumu did for him, the offers of car rides, the way he always made sure Sakusa had went into the house before driving away, the way Atsumu never pushed his boundaries at school, rolling his eyes and telling his teammates that he doesn't need a good luck kiss because they've never lost a game, have they? 

The cuts on his hand, Atsumu hiding them in his pockets, from cutting vegetables. Sabrina's testimony of Osamu nearly committing homicide and becoming an only child at helping his clueless brother cook for Sakusa because that was what their contract dictated. 

Why else would he need to work that hard for Sakusa?

_"Do they go to our school?"_

_"They do. And it's complicated, don't worry about it."_

The way Sakusa was reminded how music was fun again. How could he do that if Atsumu hadn't run away from his home?

_"There's only one thing in the world I'm jealous that Samu has. And it's that he has a true relationship."_

And the blue rose. Sakusa had googled the meaning, wondering if Atsumu chose it on purpose or not when his phone loaded and he stared at the first result he saw.

_Attaining the impossible._

He's trying to pull up the courage to speak -- to ask if he's reading him correctly when Atsumu breaks the silence between them.

"Listen, Sakusa."

Sakusa looks up, watching the way Atsumu's hair turns gold in the sunset, intensely pink and orange skies behind him, his skin already several shades darker from the few days they're here.

He swallows. _Sakusa_. Atsumu barely calls him Sakusa, it's always some stupid nickname. He feels his pulse speed up as he darts his tongue out to wet his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"We should end this."

Sakusa looks up from the sand, Atsumu gives him a wry twist of his mouth, "'M sorry I acted like shit towards ya these past few weeks, but let's call it off."

He hates the heat, he hates how it'll remind him of this memory, of the palm trees at sunset and Atsumu curled up around him, sleeping peacefully, rasping, " _Why?_ "

So he's wrong. Sakusa sucks in a heaving breath, blinking hurriedly as his eyes and cheeks prickles in shame.

Atsumu does a half-shrug, looking apologetic, "...It's.... I'm catchin' feelings fer you."

Sakusa's breath hitches. He looks up, blinking as a tear slides down his face without permission. Atsumu's face comes into focus again, a light blush darkening his cheeks.

"Actually," Atsumu laughs, throwing his head back, the wind playing with his hair, "I've liked ya fer a long time, jus' took me this long ta realize."

Sakusa's head is whirling with the new information— his blood settles, so he wasn't wrong, he was right, he read everything right and Sabrina and Osamu weren't lying to him but—

"Why do you want to end it?" He says, managing to keep his voice even.

Atsumu spins around. They've stopped walking on the beach, facing the sun as it sinks into the horizon. Sakusa steps forward, allowing the warm water to soak his feet, feeling it brush against his ankles.

"I don' want it. Love," Atsumu clarifies in a quiet voice.

"But I like you," It comes bubbling from him. Sakusa fights with himself, his stomach coiling as the heat in his eyes comes back, the ocean blurring.

His face is hot. He's back on stage for his solo, emotion bubbling up inside of him as he saws away on his violin, ignoring the way his wrists twinged with discomfort, completely losing his cool.

"I'm sorry."

His voice shakes with anger, "You're an absolute _fucking player_ , Miya."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"I fucking hate you," Sakusa hisses, wiping his tears angrily with hand as it spills over his cheeks again and again. He can't show weakness, he focuses on his heated skin, the way Atsumu, at his peripheral, raises his hand as to comfort him.

" _Don't touch me!_ "

Atsumu's hand drops, "Sorry."

Sakusa invades his personal space for the first time in weeks, chest heaving, Atsumu's features distorted through his tears. He pushes Atsumu's chest, " _Fuck you_ , _Miya_ , fuck you and your stupid plans, I bet you weren't plan on having me fall for you."

"I—"

"Shut up!" Sakusa orders, he bares his teeth, trying to scrub Miya Atsumu from his memories, trying to remove the Atsumu-shaped indent that he's carried with him since the beginning for their fake relationship, thinking about how fun and light it'd been at the beginning, "Shut your fucking mouth!"

He pushes Atsumu into the ocean. Atsumu falls without hesitation, staring up at him as Sakusa hears Akaashi's worried tone float in the wind.

Sakusa glares down at him, voice cracking, "Why aren't you fighting back?" He goes to his knees, feeling the warm water swirl around his legs, the sand pressing against his burn kneecaps that are peeling away.

He fists his hands into Atsumu's tank top. He wants a fight now. He wants to punch Atsumu, wants Atsumu to know how hurt he's feeling right now, seeing a few drops of water falling on Atsumu's chin—

Atsumu laughs, bleak and tired, "I'm sorry, Kiyoomi."

"Then what am I supposed to do with these feelings?" He snarls, mounting Atsumu like they were in his bedroom three months ago, leaning down like he's going to kiss Atsumu but instead he digs his fingers deep into Atsumu's shoulders and squeezes.

He miscalculated. His brain is rattling, the memories of Atsumu throughout the seven months flashing in his head like a too-fast slideshow.

_You've ruined me._

"I'm sor—"

" _Stop apologizing, I don't want to hear it from you!_ "

"Okay, okay," There's a pair of arms around him clad in a long sleeve as Sakusa's plucked off Atsumu, his legs rearing up. Sakusa struggles, elbowing Akaashi in the face as Osamu grabs him around the waist, both of them tumbling down on the sand.

Sakusa feels stick to him, rolling over and scuffling with Osamu.

"Rin!" Osamu calls, pining him down.

" _Fuck you, Miya!_ " Sakusa struggles, being removed quickly from the beach as Osamu passes him off to Suna. He can't see anymore, his eyes stinging from the sand and tears in his eyes, but he could still feel hands on him and he lashes out.

Suna grunts when Sakusa drives his elbow into his side, "Ow!" 

"Stay _out_ of this, Suna, this is none of your busine—"

"Sakusa—"

"—hell is Atsumu, I'm gonna—"

"Sakusa!" Suna gasps, clutching his side, "Your phone's been going off non-stop! _Stop struggling!_ "

Sakusa then sees his phone being pressed into his wet hands, sand sticking to the edges of his case. He sees Naomi's name across the screen. It should be one in the morning for her.

She never calls him. Naomi hated paying international fees, opting to use a messaging platform.

He swipes the screen, pressing it to his ear, his heartbeat echoing in his ear, "Naomi?—"

" _You're coming home right now!_ " His sister's voice comes out short and thick, he hears beeping in the background and a cool, detached voice announces a flight leaving Heathrow, " _I've booked you a flight, it's leaving MIA in three hours—_ "

"What? Why?"

Her voice is shrill in his ears as she sobs, " _Dad collapsed, Kiyoomi. Dad collapsed!"_


	5. Interlude: everythingoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: smoking weed, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of spiders, atsumu being an asshat
> 
> i'm sorry for the slow update, work has gone to shit recently (ive been plucking my white hairs out every night). i have most of the next chapter typed out, but am struggling with the epilogue. thank you all for being so patient and leaving very kind comments
> 
> some long works being written: a part 3 of the notte stellata universe (not another interview, an actual sakuatsu fic) sakuatsu noragami au, sakuatsu atla au, sakuatsu hunger games au (this may end up being a drabble actually), sakuatsu orchestra au (that ive let rot in my drafts for half a year lmao good times). i hope?? i can finish one of these soon

1\. [Feels Like We Only Go Backwards](https://open.spotify.com/track/0LtOwyZoSNZKJWHqjzADpW?si=w9UXb0AyR_aIaGQy7P1B9A) • Tame Impala

"Why don't you talk to him?"

Atsumu looks up from s_yomi's Instagram page. It's private and there's nothing written in the description box. The profile picture is of Sakusa's back as he's facing the ocean on a cloudy day, probably taken by one of his sisters.

Sabrina jumps to her feet, the crowd cheering, "WOOO! YEAH SUNA!"

On the court, Suna waves towards their direction as their school jogs back to their half of the court.

Atsumu looks back down at the private account before shutting his phone off and pocketing it away. There's nothing he can find out from Sakusa's lack of social media presence other than the fact the guy visited a beach once and took a picture of it. He was hoping he could poke around his sister's social media as well, but Hiromi's account only has a post of a blurry Sakusa trying to jump out of frame as she celebrates National Sibling day among the many food pictures.

It's stupid. Osamu's convinced Atsumu's fallen in love or some stupid shit like that when he _hasn't_.

_"Then what d'ya call that look on your face?"_

_Atsumu feels his cheeks heat, "...A tiny crush."_

_"Sure, chief."_

"So," Sabrina hums, nudging his leg, "Why don't you talk to him? He's not scary."

"Yes he _is_ ," Atsumu had bumped into him and his sister in the hallway earlier when the lunch bell rang, trying to catch his eye but ultimately chickening out when Sakusa power-walked past him like he was on a mission to murder someone.

"He's not, he smiled when I gave him a hand sanitizer with a Squirtle on the front."

"What. Do. I. Need. To. Do. To. Become. Squirtle," Atsumu punctuates each word flatly as he types it into his phone, Sabrina slapping his arm, "OW!"

"I'm trying to be serious!"

"So am I! I'm tellin' ya he's too scary to approach!"

"Then what are you gonna do with that crush of yours?" She asks incredulously.

Atsumu looks away from her dark brown eyes.

"...Miya, you did _not_."

Atsumu turns his head to catch Osamu's three pointer swooshing through the net, clapping lightly for his brother as the school cheers. The away team visiting is doing poorly; he starts telling Sabrina about holes in the defense when he sneaks a look and sees the disapproving frown on her face.

" _Atsumu_."

"Stop givin' me tha' look, ya look like my Mom," He grumbles.

"Thank god I'm not."

"Hey!"

"You have to stop hooking up with people whenever something inconvenient happens," She tells him off angrily, "This is such a shitty habit to have, you break so many hearts!"

He purses his lips at that, drawing his arms to cross at his chest as he slouches at the bleachers, "They know s'just a make out session an' shit, not _my_ problem if they catch feelings."

"You're avoiding the root of the problem here."

"Just because ya took AP Psych doesn't mean ya get to 'diagnose' me like your mom," He warns, the words _stop trying to fix me_ laced in the air.

She goes quiet, "Right. I'm sorry."

He slouches deeper into his seat, "S'okay."

He continues to kiss other people, girls, boys, anyone who has a willing mouth and a half attractive face, he'll charm them with a practiced smile and pull them behind the school building.

(Never a boy taller than him, never anyone with short, black curls who walks with a proud clench to their jaw despite their violin string snapping mid-piece)

Osamu looks at him with disgust, wondering what their parents had done in their past life to end up with a son like him but Atsumu will pretend the words don't hurt, trying to push Sakusa out of his mind. 

It's just a passing crush, he tells himself, you're not in love, _you're not in love_.

He thought he knew what love was when he was dating a girl with black hair that goes around her collarbones and a tiny, cute smile. She fit under his arm like a glove and they were happy.

And then she walked away.

Atsumu only existed partially for the next few months, reeling with unexpected waves of emotions when he sees a random tea she liked to drink or passing a coffee shop they used to frequent. Just when he thought he was over her, he sees something and feel that twinge in his heart again.

He's not bitter anymore. Bitter Atsumu was him in freshman and sophomore year. No, he's accepted it, buried his feelings under a box and sealed it shut with the promise that he'll never give anyone a full one hundred percent of his heart to hold.

Osamu will never understand. He has Rin, he's in "love" and Atsumu would have to be ready at a moment's notice to catch his brother during the fall if Rin pulls the trigger.

_"Yer such a shitty person, stringin' along people 'round when ya don't even have feelings fer 'em!"_

Atsumu punches him. They make a scene in the hallways, people darting to the side as Atsumu pushes Osamu into a locker.

Sabrina, when she breaks through the crowd with Suna hot at her heels, is horrified.

She corners them next to the drama classroom to hiss at them and waves around an anti-bruising gel, taking off the cap and squeezing some onto a fingertip. She lectures them both about fighting in the hallway, how they're lucky none of the teachers caught it as Suna darts away to ask for some bandaids from the nurse's office.

Atsumu bats her arm away too hard, spitting about how he doesn't want her help, her assistance, as her left wrist goes flying and knocks into the edge of a trophy case next to them.

Her eyes water. Osamu pushes him down and screams at him for being a piece of shit.

Atsumu doesn't fight. He knows he is, watching Sabrina curl into herself and cradle her left hand to her chest.

Osamu hurries her off to the nurse's office, not even sparing another glance at Atsumu. The people in the hallways are muttering again.

He picks up the tube of gel on the ground and rubs it into his skin until his eyes are prickling from the pain.

Sabrina doesn't talk to him for a month. Osamu pretends he doesn't exist. Only Suna acknowledges his existence with little pity waves across the school parking lot when he and Osamu pile into his car after school.

When Atsumu's done with after school practice and licked the blood off his lips (the person he picked today had been too aggressive), he checks his phone and sees an olive branch being extended.

Sab Chen [17:08]: <https://spoti.fi/2FBDa0x>  
Sab Chen [17:08]: good music

She smiles the next day when he brings her a bag of Jolly Ranchers, trying to hide her left hand that's in a splint behind herself.

He's sure people are curious how he's still good friends with her after their break up. Atsumu asks himself that too sometimes, wondering if they're just parasites, unable to let go of each other or if they're better off as friends like what Sabrina had said when she broke it off.

The consensus he reached years ago is that Sabrina, while she makes him want to tear his hair out at times, is a good, honest friend deep down. And he's lucky to have her.

"A lifetime of servitude?" She laughs at the little sticky note attached to the plastic bag.

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, ashamed.

She folds the sticky note in half and gives him a light smile that doesn't really reach her eyes, "It's okay, Atsumu."

It's not okay, he thinks, watching her sit out from the year end concert the music department holds, only standing on stage for senior chamber choir.

"Do you...maybe want to get dinner?"

He pulls back from sucking a bruise on someone's neck, looking at a set of doe eyes.

Bad choice. Most of Sakusa's expression is scrunched up but the two times Atsumu caught him with a neutral, resting face, made him realize how soft his features really are.

He'd always look older than Atsumu thought, with his looming height and scowls. It's easy to see how he never noticed Sakusa before since he was always rushing from one class to the next with his long legs, looking like he's trying to get the day over with so he can go home.

"Sorry," He unwinds his arm from the senior, grinning politely. Atsumu watches his face fall, "I don't do dinners."

Then he spins on his heels and walks away, thinking about a violin string snapping and cutting into someone's cheek.

And how dark the blood was against a cheek that pale.

2\. [Money Power Glory](https://open.spotify.com/track/7Ms58r8G6Y0r1XLtpwoGxN?si=7-eGU8TnTcy5kgzNqpt3pw) • Lana Del Rey

He spends his summer scooping ice cream in the day time and working for the amusement park directing cars in and out of the parking lot once the sun has reached it's zenith in the sky, working from early morning until late at night.

When the skies are cotton candy pink and purple, Atsumu takes his break in his car that's parked in a residential neighborhood. As he watches the clouds float by, he thinks about summer couples, never ending nights and laughter.

He couldn't remember the title of the movie he watched with her, but that cotton candy sunset and the feeling of a summer ended that stretched on and on was forever immortalized in his head.

" _Kiss me hard before ya go, summertime sadness,_ " He sings along to the radio.

3\. [Ass Back Home (feat. Neon Hitch)](https://open.spotify.com/track/3bfqkspKABT4pPicm6wC9F?si=6tViarUvSD6aR-kX4G8g6w) • Gym Class Heroes, Neon Hitch

He smokes a blunt with Akaashi when Bokuto leaves, Osamu off at Rin's house.

"Aw fuck don't cry," He begs, watching Akaashi blot his eyes with tissues as he sniffles. His parents are out on a business trip and Akaashi had been lonely in the big house by himself when Atsumu got the text, "He's not dead, he's just off—"

"To col—" A hiccup, " _College_ , I know."

Akaashi seems to collect himself after that, holding back his tears by sheer will and glaring at the floor.

Atsumu watches warily, still holding the tissue box as his body relaxes. 

Then Akaashi hiccups again and starts sniffling. Atsumu sighs and pulls out more tissues, patting his back. Once upon a time, Atsumu thought he was very pretty, but the thought quickly vanished when Bokuto came into the picture.

"God, I shouldn't have smoked," Akaashi curls up into a ball on his couch as Atsumu drags a small trash bin over, "It makes me even more anxious!"

The calm and collected Akaashi unraveling because of love. Atsumu isn't the best at taking care of people, so he heads for the kitchen to make the only thing he knows that will cheer Osamu up when they're fighting.

He shakes some furikake into a bowl of rice he warmed up, mixing it together as Akaashi lets his tears pool on his kitchen counter, eyes very, very red.

"Why anxious?"

"Koutarou can fall in love with someone else," Akaashi says miserably, "Or he could realize it's not worth it anymore. New environment, new friends, new people to fall in love with, new teammates, I'll become a speck in his memory. We'll just be star crossed lovers that intersected only once."

Atsumu understands. He shapes a handful of rice into a vague triangle and slaps on a lightly salted sheet of seaweed, handing it over.

"Eat."

Akaashi tears into it. Atsumu grabs more rice in his hand and goes to shape another triangle.

Seeing Akaashi wrecked only solidified his theory on love.

Yet.

_Yet_.

He's heading over to the set of lockers near the music department since that's where Sabrina told him her new locker was. He spots her hair and inhales, ready to call her name when he missteps and stumbles.

"People come and go all the time. Please come back, Kiyoomi! We really need you."

_"He's quitting everything— the school orchestra, his private lessons— everything."_

A bubble of warmth rises in his chest. Atsumu swallows, feeling someone bump into him in the hall. 

It scares him, this all consuming feeling. He didn't even feel like this around Sabrina.

Sakusa's hair is shorter, a back to school haircut probably. Otherwise, he looks the same, wearing a fitted neon long sleeve in the middle of a heat wave, a pair of dark joggers with one vertical line going down the pant leg around his hips and slouching as he smiles— he can smile?

Even after three months of summer break, Atsumu still feels like he's sitting in the dark theater, captivated. Sakusa's hair looks slightly different. The curls look...fluffier.

God, he's delusional.

He feels jealousy bloom as he watches Sabrina and Sakusa laugh together.

"CHEN!"

Sabrina's head snaps over to him but Atsumu can only see Sakusa's disinterested face, his dark lashes blinking. 

All those people he made out with didn't replace Sakusa in his head?

He gives Sakusa a challenging glare as they make eye contact.

4\. [白日](https://open.spotify.com/track/4wel6DQu0dMVBRVn2ZTPoy?si=_Xb883vLS8ub8zYuO4hzIw) • King Gnu

It's simple, see.

A long, long time ago, Atsumu fell in love and was crushed.

"Hey, Sakusa? Got a minute?"

He vowed to never give himself fully to another person. He barely recognized himself when he came out of it, all dark circles and something like loss weighing his shoulders down. Osamu needled him to eat after winter turned into spring, starting out with light soups and frequent snacks as Atsumu realized how much weight he lost in the months where he moped.

He turns Sakusa down obviously, he's not stupid like his brother.

Atsumu watches how the sun shines down on the courtyard, their own summer palace, hidden away from the eyes of everyone else, his heart screaming no while his head screams yes, _yes_ this is the right decision to make.

Sakusa's hair isn't black, no, it's a very dark brown in the sun. There are some strands that are curlier than the others and he has pins hidden in them— trying to mask a bedhead?

When Sakusa denies the crush, Atsumu blinks in surprise, yanking him back and holding his hands up in the air as he remembers the way Sakusa always kept his hands in his pockets.

Who the hell writes ' _Miya Kiyoomi_ ' when—

His brother.

_Fucking Osamu_.

It's always his brother butting into his business some way or the other. Everyone loves him, praises him for being the nicer one, the more patient one. Atsumu has accepted the fact, at age 4, that he could never get rid of his twin, but he feels a sudden need to drop kick Osamu and punch the ever loving shit out of him.

All the sudden, he needs to know.

He needs to know what's so good about Osamu, the little bitch, when Atsumu looks exactly the same as him.

It's always Osamu.

He comes home, storms to their shared bedroom wanting to dive into his pillow and screams when he sees Osamu and Rin on top of his blanket, fully clothed (small mercies).

Osamu kicks him out. Atsumu goes to their fridge and eats all the pudding their parents bought in an act of pettiness. He doesn't even like caramel but fuck this, Osamu isn't getting anything tonight.

"Can ya _not_ roll 'round in my bed?" Atsumu grumbles when Osamu and Suna come down the stairs, the latter giving him a sheepish grin and an apology that they didn't mean to trip and fall down on his mattress.

"Oops," Osamu says, sticking his head in the fridge, "Huh, didn't Ma say she bought pudding?"

"Dunno," Atsumu shrugs, hearing Suna's car exit their driveway. Osamu closes the fridge door, holding a cup of yogurt instead. They talk about classes and morning practice for a bit and Atsumu hopes that Osamu doesn't check the recycling bin to find a stack of plastic cups the pudding came in.

Sakusa messages him. Atsumu is ashamed how quickly he picks up his phone and spends five minutes wondering if he should text back right away.

No, he'll set a timer and focus on whatever bullshit stoichiometry worksheet he has to finish by tomorrow.

He only lasts 22 minutes before he cancels the timer and types freely.

Atsumu sets his phone down and spins his pencil in his hand, waiting for a reply. Osamu is upstairs studying like he always does when Atsumu takes over the dining table. Their parents are in the kitchen doing something, unaware of the pained look Atsumu is shooting his phone.

_You've got it bad_ , the voice in his head sings, suspiciously sounding like his twin.

His bad mood leaks into dinner when his mother asks what he wants to do after graduation now that he's a senior. They get into a small argument about lacrosse that he pushes away for now.

Nearly 9pm. Still nothing. He inhales and sends a message.

The clock mocks him. There's no way someone's that slow at texting, right? They're not living in the early two thousands, Sakusa has a phone and Atsumu knows he uses it, always catching him skipping through music.

He rolls from one end of his bed to the other angrily. Atsumu almost calls him through Messenger but that would be too desperate and he's _not_ desperate.

He sends a series of question marks before he goes to bed, ignoring Osamu's comment about what got up his ass and died.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night with his boxer briefs sticky, remembering how his dream self knitted his hands into someone's black curls, he's mortified. 

Atsumu has to do something about this. He has a team to manage, applications to hand in, scouts to impress, grades to keep up; he can't let some pretty boy with a sour attitude ruin his final year of high school.

"I'm such a fuckin' loser," He grumbles at three in the morning, scrubbing his underwear in the bathroom sink, resigned.

He texts Sakusa if they can meet up tomorrow— or technically today— and is surprised when Sakusa also woke up early by chance. They agree on a time and Atsumu decides to take a nap before his alarm blares.

He wakes up with a foggy dream about kissing Sakusa and sighs, pulling himself out of his bed and hoping that his offer on a fake relationship will scratch this crazy itch his body has for him.

Osamu offers to drive the Mazda, stating that Suna has a flat tire and he's going to bus instead. Atsumu relinquishes the keys over and watches the darkness lift from the sky as they drive to school, thinking. 

Sakusa doesn't seem the type to look like he'll go along with anything so....

"Sakusa doesn't seem ta have a lotta friends."

Osamu sighs, "That's what we've been telling ya. Just go up ta him and talk and stop drivin' us crazy with yer bitchin.'"

"Yer lucky yer driving," Atsumu glowers, "Or I'd punch ya right now."

"Maybe ya can help him at least," Osamu hums, waving the threat away, "Akaashi had calc with his older sister last year, said that his Dad's worried 'bout how unsociable he is."

He tries to not too sound too interested, "Is tha' so?"

5\. [Prisoner](https://open.spotify.com/track/1gZADNt16Oh23jWyMYRk4p?si=9ZzYbwWMS1OCo2iLkK41jQ) • The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey

By some god damn miracle, Sakusa agrees.

Atsumu barely believes it. He sits in his classes dazed, meeting with Sakusa at his locker when lunch started as he introduces him to his friends.

Osamu's mouth dropped when Atsumu showed up in the cafeteria with his arm around Sakusa's clothed elbow, tugging him along. Suna snorts rice out of his nose. Akaashi blinks and rubs his eyes.

But they all welcome him warmly and Osamu throws an arm around him, laughing like Atsumu had done something he's proud of, quietly speaking into his ear, "See? Told you ya only need ta talk."

"Yeah, yeah, stop mussin' my hair!"

Sabrina squealed and hopped around, clapping, when Atsumu broke the news. He doesn't have the heart to tell her it's fake, relishing in some positive remarks thrown his way while they wait for their teacher to unlock the History classroom.

"Tell me the details!"

"Sorry no," He sticks his tongue out at her as she fumes and stomps her feet around, "Secret!"

He'll worry about the consequences later. Sakusa seems to be a person of his word anyway, watching Sabrina flailing for one detail, pretty please, he's killing her with suspense.

6\. [Nadir](https://open.spotify.com/track/6Dw1Jhls50koqsva3Fb4wC?si=RvvFWMw0Qs6huv824-GhIw) • TENDER

"What d'ya want fer lunch, Omi-Omi?"

"...Katsudon."

"Sure thing!"

He doesn't kiss Sakusa, dear god no, he respects him more than that.

Atsumu categorizes them in his head. Around his brother, Suna and Akaashi, Sakusa takes his hand out of his pockets and plays basketball with them.

Around Sabrina, Sakusa smiles.

Around him, Sakusa accepts offers of chicken nuggets from Atsumu's hand, the car's interior light throwing dark shadows on his cheek from his eyelashes.

It's infuriating how normal Sakusa seems in real life when he's not standing on stage. The intimidating stage presence is no more than an act, he thinks. Atsumu laughs at his sarcastic remarks, his too smart mouth, blunt tone and finds himself delighted when they can go back and forth with insults that have no real venom.

Around him, Atsumu takes the top down from the Mazda and ignores Sakusa's needling about wasting gas as they take a detour on their drive home after school, passing by the waterfront and beaches as Atsumu sings at the top of his lungs.

" _It feels like I only go backwards, baby, every part of me says, 'Go ahead...'"_

Sakusa only knits his eyebrows down, huffing and letting his hair blow back from the wind. Atsumu thinks he looks younger with his bangs pushed back, the entirety of his large forehead exposed.

Atsumu has been trying to find a common topic they can talk more about asides gaming (Sakusa doesn't have time to game apparently, he's Bronze II in League rankings— which is _shit_ — and would much rather prefer to listen to music) when his brain stumbles on a thought.

Sakusa likes music and Atsumu is an excellent listener of music.

"No?" He stabs the panel, his playlist on shuffle as another banger comes on, " _Here's to the ones tha' we got, cheers ta the—_ "

"NO!" Sakusa screeches. Atsumu nearly drives them into the road barrier, watching his fake boyfriend immediately twist the volume knob down.

" _Wha' the hell's yer problem?_ "

"I'm not listening to some shitty artist's rendition of _Canon in D!_ "

"The hell's _Canon in D?_ "

Sakusa tells him, angry and squinting all the while. Atsumu may have taken piano lessons as a child, but he never took music theory, which is what Sakusa is passionately ranting about. The music terminologies of chords and qualities and perfect fifths flies over his head but he understands the gist of it, he thinks, it's just an overplayed tune that all musicians groan about.

"Well, why don't ya make a playlist so ya can enjoy it with me?"

"Why?" Sakusa frowns.

Atsumu turns his eyes back on the road, slowing down for a red light. There are kids already running around on the beach even though it's a weekday, with parents languidly strolling after them, hand in hand.

"I'm gonna be driving ya fer a year, might as well enjoy it, right?"

Atsumu expected classical music. Sakusa didn't seem the type to be listening to whatever's on the Top 40 anyway, but when he connects the aux cord into Sakusa's phone, still bleary eyed from waking up fifteen minutes ago and foregoing breakfast, he's surprised when a mellow voice croons on top of an electronic beat.

" _This is our divide, need to go our separate ways, I'm too scared if you stay, we'll hold another grudge, who am I to judge?_ "

He feels his eyebrows raise, listening to his car's heater working hard, "I didn't think you were the type to listen to music like these."

" _If I will wake up one day and miss you too much, yeah we play with high stakes, it's a risk I need to take._ "

Sakusa stares back at him, face betraying no emotions, a scarf around his neck, "What sort of music does my type listen to then?"

_Something that makes you lose control_ , Atsumu thinks, remembering his silhouette in full concert blacks, rawness spilling out from stage, how Sabrina had said, much later as she chewed on her burger, that it was unusual how Sakusa allowed his emotions to get the best of him for his performance.

Atsumu finds that he doesn't have an answer, humming along to the beat as it shifts into another song. Sakusa seems to like mellow tunes and melancholic voices.

Atsumu's surprised when Sakusa reaches for his phone when he climbs in one morning. The lacrosse team mostly practices after school, but once a week they have an early morning practice. 

He gave Sakusa the option to sleep in but his fake boyfriend doesn't seem to mind coming to school an hour and a half early to sit on the cold bleachers to watch them.

He looks at his phone screen, how Sakusa is typing his username into the search box, tapping on a series of album covers with the title of _Atsumu_.

His heart starts pumping erratically.

"時には誰かを 知らず知らずのうちに 傷つけてしまったり 失ったりし 初めて 犯した罪を知る," The speakers sings. Atsumu blinks, watching Sakusa place his backpack in his lap and tug on the seat belt.

"Better? This one is more upbeat."

"I'll have ta listen ta the entire thing," Atsumu says with an attitude. Sakusa shrugs, bumping up the volume by two numbers as Atsumu presses on the pedal.

It surprises him when Sakusa hums to a top 40 song, when he allows Atsumu to drag him to an empty corner of the room, reluctance clear on his face as Atsumu showed him how to move to the music.

Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes as Atsumu sings along, holding onto the cuffs of Sakusa's long sleeve and pulling on it lightly so they're moving their shoulders to the beat, " _[Baby](https://spoti.fi/34HJg8i) I want you, baby I need you, I wanna see you, baby I wanna go out yeah._"

_You're ridiculous_ , Sakusa mouths. Their white t-shirts are glowing in the LED black lights and Atsumu can't look away from the way the blue and red strobe lights dances across his cheeks.

In the mornings, when the world is still waking up, Sakusa's soft playlist would play. After school, if it's not raining, Atsumu would pull down the convertible hood and whiz out of the student parking lot, belting out Ed Sheeran.

They listen to songs from an ice cold land, the lyrics foreign to Atsumu's ears. There are some old Thai songs courtesy of Sakusa's dad, some Junko Ohashi, Miraya Takeuchi sprinkled in that Atsumu hums when he's home, trying to avoid his mother.

Atsumu makes Sakusa a playlist on his phone. It's filled with music Sabrina calls 'basic', Nicki Minaj, Ed Sheeran, The Chainsmokers, The Weeknd, Tame Impala, Harry Styles and sprinkles of K-pop.

He doesn't know if Sakusa even listens to it, but on the days Sakusa has to come early and sit at the bleachers, bundled up because the weather's starting to cool down, he always has his ear buds in, looking up at the sky or at them doing drills.

Atsumu got distracted once, watching Sakusa read a novel Liu assigned with a faint smile on his face, bopping his head to the beat as Atsumu's tackled onto the turf field.

With his foreign songs, Atsumu's treated to Sakusa's humming, sometimes mumbling half-assed lyrics that doesn't sound like the original.

But they agree on one artist at least.

" _But tha's not what this bitch wants, not wha' I want at all—_ "

" _I want money, power and glory,_ " Sakusa laughs, still slightly drunk, leaning his head up into the night air as Atsumu drives them back from a party, putting one hand up to caress the wind.

" _I want money an' all yer power, all yer glory—_ "

" _Alleluia_ ," Sakusa sings, his falsetto perfect and clear. And it's moments like these that makes Atsumu think of never-ending summer nights, " _I wanna take you for all that you got—_ "

"Omi!" Atsumu laughs, "Yer sucha good singer, how come you're not in choir?"

"I'm a terrible bass."

"Bullshit!" He leans out of the window momentarily to give their orders to the drive in machine as Sakusa hums, already on his way to e-transferring Atsumu for his order of fries and nuggets as he taps away on his phone.

Atsumu wants to ask him about giving up music as they park in the drive thru parking lot, the hood drawn up, the sounds of chewing filling the car. 

He wants to know how one dedicates their entire life to one thing and throw it all away, thinking of his mother and the scholarships and letters he has to hide below his old Japanese textbooks.

But it's not his place is it?

"You need ta grow up and get it in your head that ya can't do lacrosse once you've graduated!"

"And why not?" He yells, raising his voice, immediately shushed by his father as he fumes next to his mother, Atsumu and Osamu being sat down on the couch. 

Osamu is looking like he'd rather be anywhere other than here, trying to shrink like he's not six feet tall and as broad shouldered as Atsumu himself.

"You have to be more like your brother!—"

Atsumu snaps, immediately switching to English, "We're two completely different people! Just because he's going to UCLA doesn't mean I have ta follow him!"

"Ya think lacrosse will earn you money?" His father spits, "There is no Olympics."

"There's a national team! I could get sponsors after I enter the league—"

" _Sponsors?_ " His father echoes waspishly, like he doesn't believe Atsumu could convince people to support him, like he doesn't believe in him.

" _Ototo-kun_ ," His mother scolds Osamu, who's been quiet up until now, "Speak some sense into Atsumu!"

When Osamu speaks up, Atsumu's anger fades slightly, "...Why can't he play? Tsumu's good at lacrosse, there's a reason why he made captain."

Why?

Lack of job security. Atsumu's body won't last forever, there'll always be a risk of injury, sports are expensive, how will they afford helping both twin's tuition when they have to juggle Atsumu's classes _and_ sports fees, Atsumu should resign as Captain and turn his attention to studying so he has a better chance of getting scholarships like Osamu.

Always being compared to his brother is the cherry on top.

Atsumu holds his tongue on the two full-ride offers he has, glaring at his parents, "Tha's it, you're not gonna let me play lacrosse no matter what?"

" _No_ ," His father says, voice final.

"Fine, then I don't want to be your son!"

"Take that back right now! Atsumu? _Atsumu, where are you going?_ "

"Fuck this family," Atsumu mumbles too quietly for his parents to hear, walking out of the living room and stomping upstairs. He can hear his mother plead to Osamu, to try to convince him to change his mind as he shoves his earbuds in and proceeds to go outside to clean the storm drain, ignoring the glare his father gives him through the windows.

There's another party that night. Atsumu looks at the alcohol with longing but continues to sip his water, joking around and absolutely not looking in his twin's direction.

Sakusa, Suna and Akaashi have their heads bent over something on Akaashi's phone, laughing together. Atsumu smiles briefly at the sight.

Sakusa begins overriding Atsumu's memories of his past crushes and relationships. What tea did Sabrina even liked? Was it Earl Grey or English Breakfast? Where did he even receive his first kiss? At school or the mall?

_You should stop now_ , the voice in his head goes, as Atsumu sighs and watches Sakusa's head lean before he snaps up, like a plant reaching for the sun. 

"I guess I can offer ya my shoulder."

Sakusa rolls his eyes, mumbling something too quietly for Atsumu to hear over the beat of the music, resting his head against his shoulders platonically. Another weekend, another party, this time celebrating Akaashi placing first in the swim team's first meet of the season.

Naturally, he seeks out another form of self-destruction to numb himself. If he can't drink alcohol, he'll work around that.

Atsumu's nice and relaxed, holding the joint in one hand as he tilts his head and blows the smoke away from Sakusa sleeping against him. He's not really listening to what Suna is saying and for once, the yelling in his head is quiet, like he'd burrowed his head under a pile of pillows to take a nap.

Sakusa shivers. Atsumu asks his goalie if he can fetch a blanket from inside Akaashi's house, mumbling a thanks and draping it over Sakusa.

"Never seen you be so gentle."

He looks up, seeing Sabrina raise her eyebrows, her lipstick smudged slightly. Atsumu throws her a wolfish grin although it's duller than he wanted, landing in the 'sloppy' category, "Who'd'ya kiss?"

He blows some smoke into her face. Sabrina swats the arm that Sakusa isn't leaning on, making Atsumu wince.

"I just ate a slice of pizza, dick head," She helps him tuck one corner of the blanket, "I got into Juilliard."

He cheers for her as quietly as he can, wedging the blunt between his teeth as they fist bump. Atsumu takes another inhale and decides it's enough, just holding it between his fingers since he can't lean forward and put it on the table.

Akaashi already told him he could shower in one of the guest bathrooms and he intends to slip away for a few minutes before Sakusa wakes up to wash away the smell, knowing that Sakusa once refused to step inside a bathroom even if his bladder was bursting. Atsumu has a spare shirt stuffed in his jeans that he'll change into for good measure too. 

Only the best for his fake boyfriend.

"Hang on," Sabrina frowns, "You're DD, right?"

"Relaaaaax, Omi lives across the street," He points his finger in the direction of the front of the house, "And I walked here, I can manage walkin' back. I don't have a death wish."

"Have you told him?" She jerks to Sakusa with her chin.

Atsumu blinks, looking down and brushing Sakusa's bangs away slightly. He definitely looks younger when he's not frowning. Atsumu is filled with the sudden urge to kiss his forehead, "About wha?"

"How you love him."

He scoffs, "I don't love him."

Sabrina raises one eyebrow, sipping her drink. She doesn't answer him and Atsumu stares at his ex-girlfriend's face before realizing that her gesture is an answer itself.

7\. [Adore You](https://open.spotify.com/track/3jjujdWJ72nww5eGnfs2E7?si=2m3Tsd0qR2W-JoAZw7s2zA) • Harry Styles

Osamu tells him that Atsumu is too easy to read. Atsumu threatens to slap him with the wooden rice paddle he's using to break apart the day old rice from the fridge.

Tomorrow's lunch is fried rice.

8\. [Interlude](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mIpd076vT9p59Vf9mkHTW?si=Uhuch_ycTMewhwXmXRiCGA) • London Grammar

He gets into another row with his parents about his future. Feeling bleak, Osamu decides to cancel the birthday dinner they were planning, opting to sit with his brother on the couch, tossing a tub of ice cream to him.

Atsumu looks at the carton, "Mint chocolate? That shit's nasty."

"Ya can fuck off," Osamu says, passing him a spoon.

They spend their birthday digging out of the carton as they watch the Oilers play against the Blackhawks.

Sometimes, he's glad he has Osamu.

So Atsumu adapts. He learns to ignore his parents yelling at him to drop lacrosse, using his brother and Sakusa's past as examples when they have no rights to use Sakusa against him like that. He listens to the playlist Sakusa curated for him to sleep, soothed by choirs, the Icelandic language, K-Indie, knowing that he's toeing a dangerous line.

Sabrina knows nothing. Just because they dated in freshmen year doesn't mean that she's had him figured out. When she raises her eyebrows across the room at another party, pulses of light flashing on her face, Atsumu throws her the middle finger.

" _나랑 아니면 누구랑 사랑 할 수 있겠니._ "

She rolls her eyes as he adjust his one earbud he's sharing with a sleeping Sakusa, the wire trailing down their bodies. 

" _나랑 아니면 어디에 자랑 할 수 있겠니._ "

Sakusa twitches in his sleep, face slightly flushed from alcohol. Atsumu sees his dark circles, knowing he didn't get much sleep the past week, bitching over vector-valued functions and whatever polar coordinates are during the drive to school as Atsumu hummed like he understood.

He looks around the room and sees that no one is paying attention to them, either dancing or laughing, consumed in their own lives.

He rubs circles onto Sakusa's hand, flipping the palm up. 

Sakusa has long fingers. Almost like a spider, thin and bony, the skin pale purple and pulsing green under the strobe lights. Atsumu gives them a slight squeeze, wondering why he's always so cold to the touch as he peers at the nailbeds, the little crescent of white nail visible unlike the string players in their school orchestra, unlike Sabrina who sighs and carries a nail clipper with her everywhere.

There are no callouses on his fingertips; nearly a year of quitting music and it's like he'd never stepped on stage.

Could Atsumu do that? Forget about something that's so integral to him?

If Sakusa realized Atsumu's thumbs felt off, he didn't say anything about the bandages placed around it earlier in the day, a payment of Atsumu's clumsy attempts at chopping onion and garlic. He mumbles something in his sleep that sounds suspiciously like he's telling his calculus teacher to fuck off, brows furrowing.

It's so endearing that Atsumu pulls Sakusa closer so he can rest his head comfortably on his chest.

He's definitely not in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

_"So elementary Omi-Omi, it's a good thing yer not in sports or we'd rip every single lil' secret from ya with the way yer askin'. Yes, I have a crush right now."_

He should've never instigated that drinking game.

Atsumu sits up, eyes crusty, to an empty room. There's water and bread nearby.

_"This is my deepest darkest secret, mkay? There's only one thing in the world I'm jealous that Samu has. And it's that he has a true relationship."_

He groans. He's so stupid, why did he blab that out to Sakusa?

Atsumu spends the rest of the afternoon having a tiny meltdown in his room, thinking of how _obvious_ he was and how Osamu's never going to let him live this down if he hears about it when Bokuto barges into the room and wonders loudly if he's still alive.

"Nice," Suna whistles, looking at Atsumu's hair sticking up, leaning on his crutches.

Atsumu dryly laughs, "'S'not what ya think."

Distance. He has to distance himself. He can't let Sakusa sniff the secret out of him. He didn't think Sakusa connected the dots yet anyway.

Again, he's afraid of how this boy could very much ruin him. If Sakusa already made him forget about the bitterness of his previous relationships, what else will he make him forget about?

~~How scared he is to give himself wholly to another person.~~

(He doesn't think he can take another sting of rejection with the way his home life is right now)

Of course, as all his plans go, the universe disrupts it by uppercutting him. Atsumu shivers on the swing, wondering which person Osamu will send to find him and hoping it's not Sakusa.

Akaashi would be nice. Atsumu would kill for a warm shower right now, even if the water is tepid as long as it's marginally warmer than the air around him.

_"You're an idiot!"_

He looks up at Sakusa's scowling face and almost laughs. He is, isn't he?

9\. [Do You Remember](https://open.spotify.com/track/57AQnEbQgoz2q7N9zmtpEl) • Jarryd James, Raury

He tangles his right hand in Sakusa's hair, the smell of his body wash and shampoo on Atsumu's own skin overwhelming.

Atsumu thinks of the boy who had unapologetically wormed his way into his life, destroying the walls he built for himself and wonders what else could he do when Sakusa offered to kiss him?

Something stupid like kissing him back, definitely.

10\. [Who Do You Love](https://open.spotify.com/track/3nxcFabbfDQ2phuqrsKjLA?si=_H1Ke7soQ5mfLchVcV-blw) • The Black Skirts

He awkwardly shuffles down the stairs, too used to waking up for morning practice and wondering if he could drink several cups of water to shut his stomach up. It's still hell o'clock and by the darkness of the house, the Sakusas must still be sleeping.

Or not.

Dr. Sakusa is humming in the dark, bathed in the light from the range hood, wearing a fluffy grey robe with bear slippers. He looks so unlike his children Atsumu almost thought Hiromi and Sakusa were adopted until he saw their mother's pictures.

"Oh, good morning, Atsumu."

"Mornin'," He dips his head uncertainly, flushing. Dr. Sakusa— Uncle, as he urged Atsumu to call him the second time he came around Sakusa's home, is staring at him like he knows his son has been rolling around with him, sipping something from a mug. "Early shift?"

"No, I had papers from my residents to edit and send off," He scratches his chin, staring at him, "...Why don't you sit down? I'll make you some tea."

Atsumu opens his mouth to refuse when his stomach growls and he goes from embarrassed to mortified.

Dr. Sakusa laughs, the lines on his face etched deep. He has a nice smile that reflects in all of his daughters— there's a dimple on his cheek that Sakusa, too, has when he's drunk.

"And an omelet, are you allergic to anything?"

"Jus' strawberries," Atsumu thanks him for the cup of tea, watching a flower float in his cup and sitting down at the breakfast bar.

He watches the doctor fetch bowls and a pan. He cracks open two eggs and sprinkles some salt and pepper, whipping it with chopsticks.

Atsumu ravenously eats the omelet— finding oozing cheese between the folded layers and cleans the plate, licking his lips clean.

He looks up to thank Dr. Sakusa and is caught off guard when Uncle smiles very openly at him, leaning against the counter next to the stove like he considers Atsumu one of his own.

"Kiyoomi didn't say anything but...why did you run away, Atsumu?"

Something about being fed by a man he only sees for a few times a week, a father who clearly dotes on his son and wishes the best for him, makes him run his mouth. Atsumu tells him about his parents, about his lacrosse career, about the offers and full-ride scholarships that he's had to hide.

They're not poor, but with two children going to university at the same time and one of them playing at the collegiate level, it gets difficult. He thinks Uncle understands, with Hiromi attending Hopkins and Sakusa on the cusp of graduating in a few months.

"Money being the problem is not uncommon," He tells Atsumu this in addition to an order for him to sit while he goes away for a few minutes. 

Atsumu washes the plate while he waits and places it into the dishwasher to dry, patting his hands on one of the kitchen towels hanging over the handle of the oven.

Dr. Sakusa comes back with a clunky looking laptop and gestures Atsumu to join him. 

For the next hour, he teaches Atsumu how to negotiate and ask the schools if he's qualified for further financial aid, the different types of loans available for students, how to make the most of his scholarship money, how to live sparingly, how to budget. Atsumu learns how to use Excel in an hour, blinking at the screen and realizing that their high school also offers scholarships.

Together, they compare the pros and cons of living in the dorms versus an apartment outside campus. Is it worth it? What kinds of apartments are there around Yale and Princeton? How can you sniff out a shitty landlord before you sign papers?

"Hitomi has been renting for many years, you can also ask her for tips."

Atsumu nods, typing everything into his phone so he can come back to this later. He's so full of overwhelming gratitude he almost forgets about what Sakusa said last night about Juilliard.

His finger stills as he realizes how lucky Sakusa is.

He has a father who devoted his free time to make sure his children are happy— all four of them are clearly loved, there's not a single picture hung up in the halls and propped on the fireplace mantle that made Atsumu think otherwise. The stainless steel fridge has various pictures of all of of them growing up— his favorite is a very young Sakusa crawling on his knees, pacifier in mouth as the other three girls are blurs in the background.

To have a father this kind, to have the financial resources to go to his dream school, to have the _support_.

And it seemed like Uncle never pressured any of his children into anything they didn't want. The eldest is a researcher in England, the second oldest is a model and Hiromi is pursuing med school.

"Uncle," He looks up from his phone, into the eyes that aren't like Sakusa's, "If Kiyoomi wanted ta go abroad somewhere, would ya stop him?"

"Of course not."

"An' if he wanted ta work at a grocery store fer the rest o' his life?"

His answer doesn't surprise Atsumu, "Then I will teach him how to manage his finances so he can be as comfortable as he can with the choices he makes."

"Then why did ya tell him he should be focusing on AP and not get himself distracted by concerts?"

When Uncle talks, his voice is heavy, "...I personally don't think music is a good career, Atsumu. Concerts, switching between time zones, always on the go, he already has an injury. Do I want Kiyoomi to dedicate himself to that? No."

"Oh."

"When you're older, Atsumu," Dr. Sakusa starts, looking outside the windows. A ray of sun shines through the kitchen windows and hits his greying temples, "You'll realize that your parents are very, very flawed people that are trying."

11\. [Wasting My Young Years](https://open.spotify.com/track/3elOzp9X3B8vMGhJBWzbIF?si=0giC3pECRYWfJrJb4gvclQ) • London Grammar

He loses Sakusa on purpose in the crowd at Akaashi's New Year's Eve party, hanging out on the deck with a blanket around his shoulders keeping him warm.

He surrounds himself with Rachel and her friends. They talk about volleyball for a few minutes before Atsumu laughs over the Tik Tok dances they're trying to cajole him into learning. He would, if he was in a better mood, but he makes a comment about being tired and slips away from the crowd in record time.

He collapses onto one of the couches next to Sabrina. He wants to stop talking for a bit; his split lip hurts.

"Sulking your way into the New Year?"

Atsumu squishes the flare of irritation blooming beneath his ribs, tossing her a grin, "Do ya have a problem if I do?"

There's a dark, envious feeling around his chest when he thinks about Sakusa now, and it's not in the romantic nature, though he's also avoiding that train of thought as long as possible.

Atsumu would do anything to be more like Sakusa, not caring what others think of him at school and living the way he wants to.

How lucky Sakusa is, to have a father that would support him no matter what.

Atsumu wishes his parents would acknowledge the hard work he put into lacrosse even if it doesn't manifest into a number on his report card. How is it any different than getting an A in history? He learns, he studies, he performs.

Sakusa is so lucky and he doesn't even realize it. Atsumu wants to push him to Juilliard, he wants the entire school to know how talented he is, how god damn savage his insults are, how playful and good he is at sports when given the chance.

"God," He scrubs his face, "Why do we even like people, Sab?"

Her nose wrinkles, "Are you asking me a rhetorical question?"

"No, like I want an answer."

"...Because we want to spend time together with them? Because you think they're cool and fun to hang around with?"

"Ya sound unsure."

"I want to know everything about them, their favorite color, their most mortifying moment from elementary school, their favorite ice cream flavor, the most irrelevant thing about them."

"But _why?_ "

What has he accomplished so far this year? Get himself into a fake relationship hoping to scratch an itch and prove to Osamu that he can be happy, give into his fake boyfriend kissing him, think he's unworthy of being comforted by said fake boyfriend's father and pick fights on purpose with his own brother who wanted nothing more than to see him continue lacrosse.

"Do we need a reason to be curious?"

Sunny flops on the couch next to Sabrina, her hair curled, "Is he still sulking? Cheer up, Atsumu, please. And stop talking to us, Sakusa is totally glaring through the window in our direction."

His back is conveniently facing the window in question, "He ain't."

"He is, turn around."

"No."

"Chicken."

Atsumu rolls his eyes, "Why do _you_ like yer boyfriend, Kim?"

The president of the art club gives him a baffled look, "I don't know? He's attractive and very cool? It's fun to spend time with him?"

He releases a pent up sigh, patting his mouth to check that his lip hasn't split accidentally.

"Look, Atsumu," Sabrina starts in _that_ tone. Atsumu groans, setting his cup down on the deck and putting his hands to his ears, "I feel like you're scared of liking Sakusa more than something casual, is that right?"

"Stop this."

Sabrina plows on like a zamboni; Atsumu is far too sober for this conversation, "You're going to end up hurting him if this goes on. He has feelings too, he's probably wondering why you're sitting with a bunch of girls instead of hanging out with him! Just _talk_ to him!"

Atsumu grinds his teeth together, "Will you get your pointy nose out of my shit?'"

"You can't avoid him forever," Sunny nods as Sabrina's tone changes, "What do you expect out of this really, if you're just hanging out with us and hiding from what you have to be open with?"

"Does that mouth ever shut up, Sab?"

"Do you think he'll just go quietly with this _dance_ you're doing?"

He snaps, "Do you ever stop nagging? Am I yer god damn pet project?"

"Well fuck you too, Atsumu! I'm just trying to help you but sure," She stands and gives him a mocking bow, "I'll take my _nagging_ ass out of your sight."

She huffs and stomps back into the house. Atsumu glowers at his hands, picking his callouses.

Sunny sighs, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Atsumu is hit with a wave of something flowery, "She's only looking out for you, even if it looks like she's nagging."

"Not you too."

She shrugs before she leaves him on the couch alone to be with his thoughts.

Atsumu miscalculated heavily.

He'd infiltrated Sakusa's life like a cockroach. Atsumu had roped him so much in his life that something that was suppose to be fun and light-hearted turned serious.

He looks at his knuckles, scabbed from pummeling his brother into the ground. They had stung when he rinsed the blood off of them but Suna's words to him when he picked Osamu up for the party had cut into his skin deeper.

_"Is this who you really want to be, Tsumu?"_

Osamu was always on his side for the important things. Atsumu knew he'd tried to talk to their parents about lacrosse on his behalf.

And instead, Atsumu is just a failure of an older brother overshadowed by his twin.

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his album. All pictures of Sakusa.

On Sakusa's bedroom wall, he knows that Sakusa has identical ones taped up. He looks at his rewind playlist of the year on Spotify and noted that the first ten songs were all from the mix Sakusa curated for him.

His heart twinges.

He lost at his own game.

12\. [Angel](https://open.spotify.com/track/0wzPHTgOtFIDhk2rD3Au4x?si=jSqLD-RxRAqWl7KONv22UA) • The Weeknd

It's simple, see.

A long, long time ago, Atsumu fell in love and was crushed.

He vowed to never give himself fully to another person.

But he did, didn't he?

He wonders when he fell for Sakusa. 

Was it when Osamu raised his eyebrows one day at the giant mess in the kitchen he made so Atsumu could make the best katsudon Sakusa has ever set his eyes on? 

Was it when he made Sakusa let out a full belly laugh?

Was it when Atsumu gave Sakusa his limp, soggy fries and saw his eyes light up?

But he can't give himself to Sakusa, it's terrifying to let someone do that. Osamu may be the braver one of them, allowing Rin to hold his heart, but Atsumu was always scared.

(Always the lesser of the twins, always angrier, always the one who's more impatient—)

So when the lacrosse team has a meeting during lunch with coach, he slips out in the middle and goes up to the student council booth advertising roses, footsteps heavy as he digs his wallet out.

A blue rose for Sakusa, of attaining the impossible.

He'll have to end this thing soon. The sooner the better, before things become too messy. He's been chewing off more than he can chew in the first place.

(Always the more cowardly one, always so greedy)

But when he's given a little card to write his message from Suna's bio friend, his hand stutters, the pen and paper blurring as his eyes prickle with heat.

He doesn't want to end this. 

He wants to keep going, he wants to apologize and pull Sakusa into his chest for being a bad boyfriend for the past few weeks. He has a lot more recipes to try. He wants to hear Sakusa rant about his thoughts on the 'shitty' pop music played over the radio and watch him frown as he helps Suna bumble through his homework.

He wants to kiss the little fading scar on his cheek from the snapped string and massage the pain in his wrists away. Atsumu still wants to do a lot of things with him, he wants to star gaze at one of their backyards together when the weather warms up, feed each other brownies as the night melts into a space where time suspends, like a horizon cotton candy sunsets and the feeling like they can go on forever.

He thinks of a simpler time, both of them sitting on the piano bench as Atsumu frantically tried to sight read, Sakusa laughing at how bad he is as they stumbled through Rachmaninoff's Sleeping Beauty Waltz, of car rides and the wind whipping their hair back, of seeing Sakusa slouch next to his car as Atsumu emerges from the school's doors, clearly waiting for him.

Atsumu manages to write something on the card, not really reading what he wrote before folding it back in half and waving to the student council members manning the table.

Then he runs away.

13\. [everythingoes](https://open.spotify.com/track/7DKYA93lgKbhxzqE2ojtCS?si=1oCXkEsKSmWcQGx5C8-cOQ) • RM, Nell

He and Osamu watches the rental car speed away, Akaashi, Sakusa and Suna's heads becoming smaller and smaller.

Atsumu had helped Sakusa pack earlier, most because Sakusa started panicking and needed to be guided to a tree stump at the front of the house to sit. Akaashi darted around in the kitchen to make him a quick sandwich so he has something to eat at the airport. 

He'd shoved everything of Sakusa's into his carryon and passed it off to Suna, not looking at Sakusa in the eye as he's herded to the car. 

Atsumu should be there, he should be the one driving him to the airport and holding his hand and telling him his father will be okay.

Now with the car a small dot in the distance, dusk falling, he turns to Osamu.

He darts his tongue out of his mouth, practicing the words in his head. Once, twice. And—

"I broke up with him."

Atsumu doesn't feel anything in his chest, no stabbing pain, no creeping ache. He looks up.

There were only several instances where he could render his brother speechless. They've been with each other for so long that it's easy to predict each other.

Osamu sighs, looking up at the sky, "Ya fucked up."

Atsumu shrugs. He's itchy from sea water and there's sand everywhere. He leaves his brother outside and heads back in for a shower, standing under the water until it runs cold. Why isn't it hurting?

He and Osamu wait in the living room in tense silence for the other two. When Akaashi and Suna returns, Sakusa-less, Akaashi tells him that Sakusa had been dropped of safely at the airport.

"Ya don't need to report to me, we broke up."

"What?" Akaashi blinks as Suna glances at his brother and are making silent conversation through eyebrows alone. Atsumu waits a few seconds, still not feeling the ache before nodding.

"Yeah."

He feels very tired all of the sudden, wanting to get away from Akaashi's concerned eyes. He slinks off to the yellow bedroom and pulls his toothbrush off the small bedside table, robotically going through the motions of brushing his teeth and slapping on some moisturizer.

When he tilts his head up, his reflection greets him. It's the same face his brother has— except Atsumu has a crooked canine, different colored hair and fading bruises in different places. 

The boy in the mirror looks sad. Atsumu tears his eyes away from it and gathers his things as fast as possible, opening the door of the bathroom wide to fan out the steam from his shower.

A knock interrupts him as he's sliding in into bed. It's his brother leaning against the doorframe, eyes tight and mouth twisting unhappily, "...You wanna talk?"

"No..." He trails off, he thought Osamu would punch him even more, but everyone's been awfully respectful of his space, "Maybe later. I don't know."

He doesn't know what he wants.

Osamu says okay and closes the door.

Atsumu looks at the space beside him where Sakusa had been sleeping for the past week. He pulls out his phone— it'll be like ripping a bandaid, he tries to convince himself, a brief stinging pain and then nothing.

He unfavorites the CookingWithHoot recipes he has on his phone; there's no need for him to scour the internet for inspiration.

Atsumu stares at his album for several seconds, feeling his throat tighten as he shoves his head into the pillow and sucks in a deep, deep breath. He deletes the pictures one by one by tapping furiously on the trash can symbol on the corner, not looking at them— because if he looks he knows it'll hurt so much more— until there's nothing to erase anymore.

He faces a moment of weakness after deleting Sakusa's initials off his Instagram, staring at the wall of pictures. A creeping ache extends out of his chest, making his eyes water and nose run.

And he _knows_ , he knows that as much as he could delete the physical evidence of their relationship, he can't do anything about the way Sakusa had slid into his heart and left some sort of mark as well.

When he gets to the last one— the first party picture of them he posted— he stops.

_"This is nice, being driven around and feeling the wind."_

_[A boy deeply asleep leans on someone's shoulder, his curls spreading like ink along a tanned neck. A hand, most likely belonging to the tanned neck, is blocking most of the shot and the boy's face. A blanket is draped around both of them but a peek of someone's navy blue V-neck is visible.]_

> Liked by **sabchen** and **other**

> **not.osamu** guess this crabby guy is cute when he's asleep 🦀  
> View all 96 comments  
>  **not.atsumu** you're so embarrassing, we're not related anymore   
> **s_romi** 😵 @modeltommy @s_naomi ?!?!!?1!!?  
>  **ballisloveballislife** damn  
>  **bokhoot** <3 

Sakusa's sleeping face blurs before it sharpens, hot tears rolling off his cheeks as Atsumu clearly remembers the evil, shit-eating grin Osamu gave him when Sakusa fell asleep in front of everyone, how surprised he'd been himself because he didn't think Sakusa would lower his guard down around him like that.

He archives that picture and exits out of the app, gritting his teeth when he realizes there's one last thing he has to do.

So Atsumu taps his music app, his pillow case wet. It's already so hard to delete everything, hard to let go, hesitating as his thumbs hover the delete button.

_Don't think about it too much_ , he thinks, _or else it'll be so much harder_.

He makes a deal with himself: one last listen to the shared playlist they made for car trips before deleting.

_"What are you doing?"_

_Atsumu tosses his phone to Sakusa one handedly, watching the younger boy fumble. It's turning colder and he has the heater blasting, Sakusa's bangs whipped back as he settles in the passenger seat. Atsumu turns his attention back to the road, "Make me a playlist we could both enjoy."_

_"You trust me?" His voice is skeptical._

_"Ya don't? I'm hurt, Omi-Omi!"_

_Sakusa grumbles a few choice words under his breath but starts occupying himself with the phone, Atsumu glancing at his profile being back lit by the rising sun as they drive to school._

Atsumu lies on his side, grabbing the pillow Sakusa slept on and hugging it to his chest as his shoulders shake. He did it. He ended it with Sakusa. What should be triumph, what should be relief that he's stopped infiltrating Sakusa's life comes out as regret.

In the yellow bedroom with the sea breeze coming in, he finally, finally opens his mouth and lets out a quiet sob.

It's simple, see.

A long, long time ago, Atsumu fell in love and was crushed. He vowed to never give himself fully to another person.

Sleep comes for him after several long hours.

_"Done."_

_Atsumu looks at the untitled playlist on his phone, Sakusa shrugging his backpack on one shoulder and slouching as they make their way towards the turf field, "Ya didn't name it?"_

_"I don't usually name my playlists."_

_Atsumu gives a puzzled hum, knowing that there's an album on Sakusa's phone with his name on it. Ah well, perhaps it's a rare occurrence since the list was made for him and not for Sakusa's listening pleasure._

_"Then let me," Atsumu laughs, typing away in a frenzy and watching Sakusa's face twist in disgust when he tilts his phone in his direction._

_"'Just let me adore you?' Are you serious?"_

_"Just lemme adore ya, Omi-Omi~ You're so prickly! GAH! No pushing on the wet track ya ass, what if I fall?"_

* * *

_Delete 'just let me adore you' album?_

_**Yes** No_

_Deleted._

* * *

  1. ~~Feels Like We Only Go Backwards • Tame Impala~~
  2. ~~Money Power Glory • Lana Del Rey~~
  3. ~~Ass Back Home (feat. Neon Hitch) • Gym Class Heroes, Neon Hitch~~
  4. ~~白日 • King Gnu~~
  5. ~~Prisoner • The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey~~
  6. ~~Nadir • TENDER~~
  7. ~~Adore You • Harry Styles~~
  8. ~~Interlude • London Grammar~~
  9. ~~Do You Remember • Jarryd James, Raury~~
  10. ~~Who Do You Love • The Black Skirts~~
  11. ~~Wasting My Young Years • London Grammar~~
  12. ~~Angel • The Weeknd~~
  13. ~~everythingoes • RM, Nell~~




	6. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: hospitals, mentions of needles, blood
> 
> also i'd like to say that i think hockey guys and pals are super cool please don't come after my ass after you finish this chapter

When he stumbles out of the airport, breathing in cooler, less humid air, he hails a cab and heads for the hospital.

He sends his father a text message, staring at the screen before he realizes that he probably cannot reply he's still unconscious. Instead, he goes to the group chat he's in with his siblings, scrolling up and reading the words he's memorized in a haze. In order on who will arrive first, he narrowly beat Hiromi since she was sitting in a midterm, unable to check her phone. Her plane arrives in three hours, then twelve hours later, Hitomi and Naomi will arrive if their plane doesn't unexpectedly stop due to an emergency.

☕☕☕ [20:57]: they wouldn't say much over the phone but he collapsed mid-operation and hit his head on one of the machines and bled all over the floor  
☕☕☕ [20:59]: anyway check your emails, i've bought the tickets. just grab your passport and run

He'll be fine, Sakusa chants. He's in a hospital, it's better than a random side road where no one will find him until hours later.

Sakusa presses his hands to his eyes, seeing lights burst in front of his eyelids as he sucks in heaving breaths. The driver gives him an alarmed look and asks if he's alright. Sakusa could only manage a nod.

When the cab slows down, Sakusa hands over his father's credit card he's only supposed to use in emergencies and runs for the elevators. He briefly looks over the map, eyes glossing over the different wards— CSICU, ICU, OR, High Acuity, Orthopedics, Neurology, Oncology, General Surgery, Pediatrics, Maternity— before entering the metal box and stabbing the floor for adult admissions.

"Visiting hours are over," The clerk says, frowning at his disheveled state as Sakusa wheezes to the front desk, "How did you enter—"

Sakusa, who had slept for exactly five minutes in the past few hours as he thought about his father bleeding to death on the OR floor, opens his mouth to snap when a new voice cuts in, "It's alright, he's with me."

The man who butted into the conversation is holding a visitor's pass in one hand and a warm drink in his other hand. His ID badge is clipped to his chest. _Marco Wickenheiser, Obstetrics and Gynecology_.

"Hi Kiyoomi," His father's friend greets with a tired smile, "You must be exhausted."

Sakusa greets him dully, being led down a hall, the lights in the hallway dimmed. He pretends he's not tracking sand inside, adjusting his clothes when Marco tugs open the door to a private room and Sakusa sees his father sitting up and reading the newspaper.

"He just woke up," Marco says into his ear.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, he relaxes.

" _Otou-san_."

His father looks up, lowering the newspaper down and then looking left and right for his cellphone, "Kiyoomi? What— How did you get here?"

Sakusa drags his carryon forward, looking at the vitals monitor next to the bed and the bag of IV fluids hanging down a pole. His father's face has color. The back of his head had been shaved, there's a large gauze taped to it. Other than the obvious bandage, his eyes doesn't see anything else, and the balloon threatening to pop in his chest is slowly deflating.

"Matching undercuts for father and son," Marco says, handing the cup to his father and grabbing his cellphone from where it's slightly out of reach. Sakusa's father mumbles a quick thanks before Marco's own phone beeps cheerfully, "That must be the food. Need anything else, Kenji?"

"I think I'm good for now, thanks, Mark."

Sakusa sees a chair next to the bed so he shuffles to that, slowly lowering himself and watching the way his father's left hand has a large needle taped in place, a plaster slapped on top to keep it from moving. Marco leaves the room, sliding the door gently to a close behind him.

They stare at each other for a few minutes. Sakusa has many things to say, rehearsed them in his head on the cab ride over but now that he's in front of his father, he's tongue-tied. His dad, it seems, also looks like he has a lot to say but lacks the words to form them.

Instead he turns his head and gestures to the clock on the wall, "It's two past midnight," He says gently, "Happy eighteenth birthday, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa swallows, hearing the pain and longing in his voice, slouching his shoulders in, "What happened? How come you collapsed?" He accuses.

His father fidgets under his eyes, "I forgot to eat."

Sakusa doesn't speak, knowing how his father is around his birthday.

He feels a prickle of guilt bleed out of the emotions he's been containing since he climbed into Akaashi's rental car. His father is only going to get older as the years pass and Naomi is all the way on another continent.

Who does his father have but him?

Sakusa awkwardly fusses with his blankets when a knock reverbs around the room. Marco strolls in with two orders of pho from the 24/7 joint next to the hospital and walks back out.

As Sakusa sets up the food tray for his father, ignoring the hot container burning his fingertips as he pours the soup into the noodles and raw meat, he thinks of a fuzzy memory.

His father, right around when Sakusa's mysophobia had reached its peak and he couldn't eat anything that was prepared without a food glove, had bought an Instant Pot and tinkered around online for a pho recipe.

Sakusa remembers Hiromi fluttering around in the kitchen as she dug out spices from the back of the cupboards while he sat at the breakfast bar, hunger gnawing his stomach, quietly eating a banana as his stomach protested for something more substantial than fruit.

"This," His father had slapped the pot heartily, the user manual in one hand as he squinted at the tiny writing, "Will kill all the bacteria. Actually, I wonder if we can use this like an autoclave...."

" _No,_ Otou-san," Hiromi's voice floated from the cupboard near the sink. Only her waist and legs remained outside. She stuck the top half of her body inside.

"Anyway! There are several ways you can kill bacteria, Kiyoomi," His father flipped through the book, writing notes on the back of yesterday's grocery receipt. Sakusa can see him draw a diagram of the button panel, "The ones I'm familiar with are chemical agents, heat and pressure.

"This Instant Pot checks two things off our list," His father said, setting the user manual down as he goes to the sink. Sakusa watched as he washed his hands three times before touching the bag of meat they got from the butcher, "Heat and pressure. Tonight, we will have delicious soup."

"If I can find the star ani— OW!" Hiromi complained, hitting her head as she crawled back out.

The recipe they used took two hours from start to finish. Sakusa watched as the machine hissed, whirred little fun tunes and chimed cheerfully when the cooking was complete. His father somehow forgot to buy flat rice noodles so they substituted with spaghetti and it clumped to the bottom of the pot.

Still, Sakusa could remember the back breaking effort that his family put into that one meal. Hitomi bruised her head and his father burned his fingers touching the metal lid to save the clumping pasta for the sake of making him something.

Soup reminds him of effort, of his father saving mothers and babies at work, of taking care of all four children as a single parent, never complaining once. 

He didn't even want baby sitters, wanting to be as hands on as possible. Sakusa remembers Naomi warily watching the driveway for police officers as they all sat in her room, working on a five hundred piece puzzle quietly while their dad had to leave them unsupervised for an emergency patient.

_Effort_. It's all around him. It's in Akaashi maintaining a long distance relationship with Bokuto, Naomi needling their father to go to talk to someone, Hitomi growing a thick skin as countless fashion houses tell her that her face is not what they're looking for, Hiromi navigating pre-med school work.

Atsumu fighting for his future.

Should he be sitting here giving up? Giving all those years he put into the violin and throwing it to the wind?

_"I didn't think ya were such a coward."_

He thinks he could open his mouth here and then, wet his lips to confess about the Juilliard letter he found below the letter slot when he came home one day before his father, how he slipped it into his backpack and ran upstairs as fast as possible.

"Thank you," His father says, breaking apart the wooden chopsticks and tugging the bowl closer to him as Sakusa straightens up and takes a deep inhale.

Life is short, he knows this all too well. Who knows when a meteor will come hurtling down on them and wipe out the entire planet?

Who knows when you're going lose a loved one?

The heart monitor continues to beep softly in the background, "You...have to start remembering to eat, you can't just overwork yourself every year when today comes around," He thickly says, seeing his father's blankets blur, "You have to start taking care of yourself. Please. I'm going to— to Juilliard in the fall. I won't be able to take care of you if you collapse again like today."

In his head, he sees a pink and orange sunset, water splashing his ankles. A boy with bleach blond hair and sun-kissed skin laughs freely in his head, slightly out of reach as Sakusa lunges forward.

_Damn it_ , he thinks, feeling the dam around his emotions break, how he was holding it back on the flight by sheer strength. _Damn it all to hell._

"Kiyoomi?" His father sounds alarmed when a small sound escapes him, Sakusa can see his blurry hand reaching towards him, "Kiyoomi? What's wrong?"

Sakusa places his head in his hands as he thinks about the weight that's off his shoulder, of carrying that Juilliard secret for months. He should be proud of himself, but he just sniffs and breathes through his mouth as his father strokes the sleeve of his windbreaker.

He wakes up with someone draping a blanket over him, blearily blinking his eyes open and seeing Hiromi's face come into focus. 

She looks pale in the morning light, hair tied up in a sloppy ponytail. Her bangs are pinned back, exposing her forehead. She presses a finger to her mouth and points to their dad sleeping soundly, the beeping of the machines drowned out by his snores.

Sakusa looks at the clock. It's nine. He sits up from the sleeper couch and jerks his head outside.

He feels disgusting. He still hasn't taken a shower to get the sand off of him and he feels like a dehydrated sponge from all the crying he did last night.

He and his sister scribble a note to his father, sticking it under an empty cup on his bedside before slipping out and standing in line at one of the coffee chains in the hospital.

"When did you get here?" He yawns.

"Three hours after you, Marco snuck me in," Hitomi says, stepping up to the counter as Sakusa follows her, "Hi! Two venti caramel macchiatos, light ice and extra caramel for both, one grande chocolate frap with no whipped cream and a venti London Fog, please."

London Fog means that Naomi will be here soon, "They're here?"

"Yeah, they just landed. Caught a lucky gust of wind or something, they're half an hour early," Hitomi taps her card to the card reader and stands off to the side, watching the workers behind the counter as she pulls hand sanitizer out of her pocket, "I'm glad Dad's alright. I thought with the way Nao was panicking that he got stabbed or something."

He initially thought that too, but with the vagueness from the hospital, he could see why Naomi spiraled into panic territory.

His stomach feels like there's a giant hole in it as he carefully watches the workers prepare their drinks, "Can we buy food after?"

"Sure can, I'm starving too. I can't believe you didn't buy me anything last night! I had to buy chips from the vending machine."

"Dad put in the order for pho, not me!"

"Kidding," Hiromi punches him lightly before peering at his face, "Your nose is burnt. Did you not wear sunscreen?"

"I did," He flatly says, "And then I forgot."

"Hah," Hitomi laughs, grabbing their drinks from the counter and hurriedly stepping out of the way as several people in scrubs power walk in their direction, "Anyway, happy birthday! You can get a tattoo now."

Sakusa slouches to allow her to pet his head, inhaling half of his chocolate drink in one sip, "Thanks."

"What did Atsumu get you?"

Sakusa doesn't let his face react even if his heart gives a sudden, terrible squeeze, stumbling on his words, "Um. Yeah."

Hiromi stops walking, spinning around to look at him. She's still dressed in yesterday's clothing probably, wearing an oversized John Hopkins sweatshirt and a pair of leggings with runners.

She blinks at him. Angular eyes, like their father.

"Kiyoomi?" Hiromi asks in _that_ tone, the tone he'd learned to associate with tip-toeing, "Is everything okay?"

If he were the version of himself months ago, he would've just made up something and told her not to worry, but....

He might as well get this over with. It'll be like ripping off a bandaid instead of trying to peel them inch by inch, "We broke up."

He internally winces at the crack of his voice. 

Hiromi opens her mouth. Her eyes widen and she looks down, chewing her lips, "Oh, I'm sorry, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa stuffs his hands into his pockets, shrugging. A flare of irritation at the pity in her voice makes his hackles rise in defense, "Whatever. Let's get food."

_It was never meant to last_ , he reminds himself. It's so stupid, the split second of happiness that bloomed underneath his ribs like a flower when Atsumu said his feelings were mutual, hoping they could slip into something genuine. The sooner he believes that fact, the faster he can move on and pretend Atsumu never came into his life.

He allows himself to be distracted when his sisters arrive together in a taxi, bursting into the hospital room after a day of rough travel. Naomi looked like she hadn't slept a wink, immediately crouching by their father's bed and demanding what happened as Hitomi stood solemnly behind her.

His father tells them the same thing he told Sakusa last night. He'd forgotten to eat, felt faint and scraped his head against the machine, sorry to worry them, Marco wasn't very forthcoming with details because it's hospital protocol. He then pats Naomi's head as she sniffs, a river of dark mascara running down her cheeks.

Their father gets discharged around noon after a night of observation and they all troop back home where Naomi tells their father to rest as she heads for the kitchen.

"Oh hell no," Hiromi mumbles, following Naomi, "She's gonna burn the house down."

Sakusa takes a shower first thing after wiping his luggage down and entering his room, scrubbing off all the dead skin, sand and sea salt. He cleans his face and slaps on a mask before strolling out and feeling his breath hitch.

He swallows, walking forward until he sees the pictures he'd stuck on the wall. September, October, November and December of the past year displayed like a timeline, shown by the leaves changing in several of the hiking pictures that were printed out.

All of this started because of a picture, Sakusa thinks, stopping until he's only a feet away.

Their backs facing the camera as they sat on the field, various pictures of them together at parties, Sakusa and Suna playing basketball with the twins, Homecoming, he and Atsumu carving a pumpkin, posing in matching couple costumes, various shots of Atsumu trying to entice a squirrel on hikes to grab nuts from his hand.

In all of them, he's happy.

He lets his eyes linger on the last picture, both of them sitting on the hood of the newly cleaned Mazda. Atsumu had asked if he wanted to hang out one weekend, " _There's no parties though, just wondered if ya were bored._ "

He came over, spontaneously agreed to an undercut, helped Atsumu dye his roots and washed the Mazda while they listened to songs from his phone, squabbling about anything and everything.

_It's not fake_ , he tells himself, tracing a finger over Atsumu's bright smile, his head thrown back in laughter. He could see the faint burn marks on his forearms from too many incidents with the stove. 

_It was never fake_.

Slowly, one by one, he takes them down, placing them inside an empty box and putting that box inside his closet.

If he comes down for dinner later with red-rimmed eyes, all his sisters and his father pretend like nothing happened, giving him an extra-large portion as Nao complains to them about the man sitting next to her on her flight who tried to get her number.

It's when he's lying on his bed, listening to a random podcast on his phone that he's interrupted by all of his sisters poking their head into his room. Naomi is holding two tubs of ice cream, Hitomi has four spoons with her and Hiromi is carrying a stack of bowls and an ice cream scoop.

"Hey," Hitomi smiles wanly, "Can we come in?"

He sniffled. He let a few tears out at random intervals while his sisters pointed out every single flaw Atsumu has. They give him the largest bowl of ice cream he's ever seen and made him a break up playlist that he absolute hates, waspishly judging their music taste. 

He laughs when Hitomi tells him about her catastrophic first dates, stuffs himself with more ice cream and hugs a pillow as Naomi and Hitomi argue with each other about some boy they both crushed on back in high school.

"At least he wasn't a hockey boy," Hitomi says as they stand in the bathroom. Sakusa sits on a stool, allowing his older sister to play with his hair like they used to before Naomi graduated. He moves his head left and right as she runs some kind of pomade over his hair, blinking at the deep right parting she gave him.

"Ew, _you_ dated a _hockey boy?_ " Naomi makes a face as she leans into her reflection, a tweezer in her hand as she plucks her eyebrow.

"Shut up Nao, you'd be surprised how many guys are put-off when you're 6'1 and taller than some of them!"

" _Oh boo hoo! I'm Hitomi and I'm 6'1 and men are scared of me_ —"

"THEY ARE! YOU TRY GETTING DATES!"

"—Why don't you give me your entire calf huh? How is it fair that the height in the family went entirely to you and Kiyoomi when Romi and I here are both 5'3? _—_ "

"What's wrong with hockey boys?" Hiromi, sitting on the edge of the tub, hisses into his ear. Sakusa gives her a look, as if to say, _do you think I would know?_ before his head is spun around by Hitomi.

"You wanna know something? High school relationships usually don't last," Hitomi says when it's dark and Hiromi and Naomi have gone downstairs to supervise their father in the kitchen, patting his shoulders and looking at him from the mirror, "You'll be okay in the end, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa likes his new hair, whatever Hitomi did to it. He gives her a twitch of his mouth, shrugging, "We'll see."

"No," She confidently says, leading him out of his room as they smell smoke and the start of the fire alarm going off, "You'll be fine, I believe in you."

He decides to take violin up, meeting his old teacher during the rest of spring break. Naomi had taken his father out one morning and they both came back with red eyes and timid smiles.

"At least the first session with the psychiatrist went well," She tells them as they all lounge in her room. Her flight is early tomorrow morning, "He said we were right, he shouldn't be living like this. I think they're planning to start him off on Lexapro, see if it helps his moods while he finds a suitable therapist."

Then Sakusa's driving all of them to the airport and watching them leave him, one by one, his world getting dimmer.

He stares at the domestic gate with its floor to ceiling windows as he watches giant birds take off into the sky, feeling tiny and insignificant.

Sakusa turns around and heads home, spinning the car keys in his hands. He feels empty.

Was this what he felt like before? Was he just going through the motions of living beforehand and now that he knew how full his heart could be, he's missing the warmth of sitting next to someone on a late night drive with music playing from the speakers?

He caves in one day and asks Hiromi for her thoughts, elaborating more after waking up countless times dreaming about a blond boy who held his heart gently before squeezing it until it popped.

Her words are kind over the phone. Sakusa lies in bed, wasting his last few days of spring break away as the weather warms up.

"You know Kiyoomi," She says after a giant pause, "Maybe it's for the best. It sounds like he has his own reasons."

He'd only told her that Atsumu broke it off because he was a coward. She tried to pry for more details but Sakusa held firm in his stance, thanking her and hanging up.

There's a giant hole in his chest and he doesn't know how to fill it again. He thinks if he spends his free time throwing himself back into music earnestly it'll fill the holes where Atsumu permeated in his life.

He finds himself subconsciously drawing the curve of Atsumu's mouth when he has his journal open to a blank page, ripping it out and crumpling it into a ball.

How do you forget someone? Why can't he forget about Atsumu? Atsumu, who didn't want him. Atsumu, who Sakusa can't think without associating kindness and cowardly behaviour in the same sentence. Atsumu, who laughed and scuffled with Osamu during lunch break and allowed Sakusa to push him down into the water without a punch, taking his hits.

The ache in his chest persists. He doesn't know which one is worse— the carpal tunnel in his left hand or the heartbreak.

On the first day back from spring break, there are stares and rumors following him. He ignores them as best as he can, glad that he never shared a single class with Atsumu as he spends lunchtime in his car.

Sabrina is surprised when he shows up the next morning in Orchestra with his violin in hand, "You're coming back?"

There are stares coming from the early risers. Sakusa fidgets, "If Anderson will let me."

She grins, immediately telling him he's her stand partner until the end of the school year.

Sakusa remembers to take Atsumu's initials off his Instagram, deleting the picture of the blue rose he posted two months ago.  
He feels something stab him when he taps on Atsumu's profile and sees their pictures gone, Sakusa looking like he never crossed paths with him. But this is for the best, he tells himself.

All good things come to an end.

He catches Suna in the hallways as he walks to Chemistry. He gives Sakusa a timid smiles that makes him rolls his eyes, "We're still friends, stop freaking me out."

"Oh good," Suna breathes a sigh of relief as freshmen mill among them, "Hey! If you want, come over to play basketball! We can do one-on-one!"

"Sure," He promises, entering the class and taking his seat next to Akaashi, who immediately starts breaking down today's lab and how they're going to split the work, like he'd wiped the memory of spring break away from his mind.

Sakusa breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that some of the friends he made through Atsumu are still willing to talk to him. It's different yet not so; Atsumu never shared any classes with him, but Sakusa always gets a nagging feeling in the back of his head to look out for a flash of blond hair in the crowd.

He accepts some gigs and plays for private garden parties, a few weddings and high school reunions in the opposite side of town to fill his time. Being at these parties with people surrounding him outside the safety of the band or corner he's stuck himself to reminds him of pulsing strobe lights and falling asleep against a warm chest.

He swallows down his disappointment, remembering background voices, Atsumu handing him whatever nasty cocktail he made for him, nodding as he's introduced to various people, the way they would pull down the roof of the Mazda on the drive home even if the temperature approached freezing, singing like they're the last people on earth and devouring fast food with only the light from the car interior lighting the fondness in Atsumu's eyes.

He visits his physiotherapist again.

The seniors start organizing and booking limos for prom. Sakusa shakes his head at Sabrina's offer to join her party. They're playing a Dvorak for orchestra; he has a lot to catch up on and she has graciously gave up nearly all her lunch hour since last week going over the music together.

"I'm not going," He says, penciling in the fingerings she had decided on for the rest of the violins.

"But it's prom! You can only go to prom once in your life!"

He doesn't want to see Atsumu with someone else on his arm, "Nah, sorry, dances don't interest me."

"Some of us go stag, you can do that."

He firmly tells her he's not interested. Sabrina wilts like a sad plant.

Apparently their school's lacrosse team won whatever league they're in. Sakusa reads the little school flyer before tossing into the recycling, glad that he doesn't have to see Atsumu's face.

He only saw Osamu once and that was when he went over to Suna's and caught him in his way out. His heart jumped at the familiar face before his brain caught up and registered the darker hair.

"Oh!— Hey, um, hi," Osamu mumbles. His hair is a lighter grey, the roots showing slightly. He's awkwardly scuffling his feet, bracing himself like Sakusa's going to tackle him into the sand again.

Sakusa pretends that everything is normal, "You're not playing basketball with us?"

Osamu blinks, giving him an awkward tilt of his mouth, "D'ya want me to? I look like him after all."

"You do," He says, "But you're _not_ him."

Which is a blessing.

Osamu nods at that and walks back into Suna's house. Sakusa gets his ass handed to him that afternoon, sweating until his shirt is damp as Osamu dribbles around him and tosses another three-pointer that falls through the hoop with a silent swoosh, Suna cheering.

When he's showering later, he realizes that he doesn't feel too empty anymore, his body instead feeling tired and heavy from running around all afternoon.

He sleeps without any dreams that night.

He continues to work at Kumon, accepting gigs at senior homes while making sure his grades don't slip. Sakusa pours all of his energy into music, into reclaiming what once, _his_. He swallows sheet music after sheet music and forces his body to digest it, stifling the ache that was once held for Atsumu.

He goes to Akaashi's house and they study for their AP exams together, Suna often dropping in and groaning when he's starting to mix up laws with each other.

The trees are green again. Sakusa sends his confirmation letter to Juilliard. He takes his father to the orchestra on his birthday in late April, visits a jazz club with Sabrina and goes on a hike with Suna a week before AP exams are to start.

He wonders if this is a healthy way to cope, to exhaust himself fully every day doing things outside his comfort zone so he wouldn't be plagued with dreams when he sleeps. Even if it doesn't, he continues because he has to focus on his future now that he finally chose a path.

He's exempted from his classes as he sits in the gymnasium, scribbling through Calculus BC, Spanish, Electricity and Mechanics and Macroeconomics, head swimming with formulas and conjugations.

He doesn't think of Atsumu at all.

He's buying Hiromi's birthday present at the mall one evening, looking over the different patterns in front of him. She'd gotten into scarves lately and even if she told him not to mail anything to Hopkins, he's sure she would be delighted if he took a picture of it and placed the box in her room until she comes back for his graduation.

His eye catches a tray of men's accessories, several leather bracelets lying innocently with price tags dangling from where it's looped around the cord.

His chest squeezes. He picks up a pastel pink and purple one with floral patterns, walking to the register and exiting the store as fast as he could.

"You're sure you're not going to prom?"

Sakusa looks up from where he's sprawled on the couch, watching the Garden of Words for the fifth time. His father gives him a pleading look.

"Even if I wanted to now, it's too late, tickets have been sold," Sakusa points out, "And I still don't want to go."

His father sighs but nods, "Alright."

Then he shuffles away to get dressed for his night shift, telling Sakusa there's money in the kitchen if he wants to order something.

Sakusa pauses the movie when his father's car leaves, walking to the large windows and looking at the cotton candy clouds. It's a good day today— not too hot and not too cold with a slight breeze by the waterfront hotel where his classmates will be dancing the night away.

He refreshes his phone and sees stories from his friends pop up on Instagram. He doesn't click on any of them, going upstairs and opening his closet door.

He'd buried this two months ago.

He pulls the box of pictures out, lifting the cover and feeling his eyes water as soon as he catches Atsumu's laugh immortalized on print.

_"I'll give ya the full senior experience."_

"Liar," Sakusa whispers, to the picture of Atsumu sitting on the clean hood of his car, grinning at the camera, before he puts it back inside the box.

In his bathroom, a blue rose in a vase sits innocently, its petals in full bloom.

  
  
He slouches in the library during lunch, not wanting to cram for Kaur's chemistry quiz. The sun is shining, the weather is warming up and the seniors can taste freedom in the air.

As such, they're all slacking off, Sakusa included. There's only a medley of senior fashion shows, three nights of the play the drama production chose this year before a week of finals exams and finally, the music department's concerts and graduation.

He and Sabrina decided to play a duet for their music school's end of year recital. He'd promised that a long time ago anyway, and he intends to keep his word.

He's thankful that she spends of her lunch time with him nowadays, always bubbling with energy and enthusiasm as they listen to various pieces on youtube, leeching and hacking into the school wifi and fooling around on their violins. Sakusa relearns how to laugh with her, sitting next to Akaashi when she manages to tug him to another lunchtime choir rehearsal, promising that they sound really cool, cross her heart and he needs a break from reading all those tiny notes anyway.

He doesn't have to hide in his car anymore, sitting in the choir room even if he's not singing. Sakusa wakes up early as he does for orchestra rehearsals, tired, but smiling when he sees the sunrise as he drives to school, humming to the radio as finals week descend upon them.

History final is a breeze. Physics is easy. He and Akaashi stumble out of Chemistry with rattling brains and decide to drive to the closest coffee shop. They sit in the shade, watching people walk outside the cafe as they break down the questions.

Sabrina joins them after getting off the bus, balking as she droops in a chair, furiously fanning her shirt to get some circulation, "God, Liu's awful, what did you two write on that weird question about the themes of The Odyssey and—"

"He writes different exams every semester," Sakusa tells her glumly. His brain feels like mush. He'll sleep well tonight, "So we don't know what you're talking about."

"Ugh," Sabrina grumbles. She's oddly dressed in head to toe in purple— a long flowy purple skirt, a lavender crop top, a pastel headband dotted with grapes— Sakusa looks at Akaashi, noticing his all white ensemble as well.

"Is today spirit week or something?"

Sabrina sighs, "Have you been living under a rock lately?"

He dresses in his concert wear that morning, pulling on a pair of slim, black slacks from his closet and buttoning up a black dress shirt. He forgoes a tie and shrugs on a dark blue hoodie, taking along his violin for orchestra.

The theme for the last day of the senior spirit week is future careers. He doesn't usually participate but the thought of leaving school and graduating makes him daring. A last hurrah, a thought of _oh, why not?_

They rehearse their setlist for the concert tonight. Sakusa then goes off to his morning classes, bringing his violin case everywhere with him as part of his prop. Several teachers express their interest when they see his violin, congratulating him with his Juilliard admission.

During lunch, he's practicing Sarasate's Navarra with Sabrina and goofing off in the orchestra room, the windows open. He excuses himself for a bit to go to the bathroom, humming when he passes through the hallway, bright with sunshine.

It's a good day so everyone one is mostly outside. There are only a few people sitting on the floor. He looks around the walls that's been his home for the last four years and feels a sliver of nostalgia take root in his heart.

Sakusa turns a corner and catches a familiar head of blond.

Atsumu blinks at him, taking in his all black attire as Sakusa looks at him, mouth going dry. Atsumu, in all of his sun-kissed glory, wearing a lacrosse sweatshirt and gym shorts, is carrying a lacrosse stick.

He looks the same, albeit slightly tired maybe— Sakusa's mind races, did he fight with Osamu again? With his parents?

They stare at each other for several tense seconds before the line of Atsumu's shoulders relaxes.

Atsumu gives him a wry smile, voice soft, "Yer finally brave enough to pick it?"

_Pick what_ , Sakusa wants to ask, before his eyes trails down out of habit and he sees his dress shoes and slacks. _Oh_.

"...Thanks to you I am."

He watches the way Atsumu carries himself, the tilt of his chin telling him that he's walking proudly with his decision to continue lacrosse, "Congrats, I guess."

"Thanks."

Atsumu gives him a small smile and walks away.

Sakusa turns around, a word already out of his mouth, "Atsumu."

Atsumu walks a few more steps before stopping, tilting his head and giving him a complicated expression Sakusa doesn't bother to pick apart.

"The music school's end of year recital is the day after our graduation ceremony," He swallows, "Come and watch Sabrina and I. We're playing something together."

Atsumu hums. His hair is longer, coming down around his ears as a strand of hair fights against the gel, falling down his forehead, "I'll think 'bout it."

"Okay," Sakusa says, watching him exit the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

"Please," He groans, watching Hiromi and his father sob in the hallway as he comes down the stairs. He's wearing a dark blue dress shirt and black slacks— the same ones he wears for concerts— under the gown even if no one will see his shirt anyway, "Stop crying."

If he moves his head carefully, his hat won't fall off, being pinned to his curls. He watches as his father straightens the gold cord around his neck.

"Losers," Hitomi says, eyes very dry, wearing a loose white blouse as she comes up to him with an eyebrow pencil. Sakusa stoops down and allows her to touch him up before his dad presses a chalkboard with the words _Kiyoomi, 18, High School Graduation_ written in large loops and takes several pictures, eyes perpetually misty.

Naomi has something to do first so she'll meet them at the nearby ice rink that's been melted for the off season. Sakusa checks that his family hasn't misplaced their tickets before heading off.

Sakusa drives there early for pictures. He gets corralled into one by various orchestra members, Sabrina, Akaashi and Bokuto, and a grinning Suna.

He takes a picture with Osamu, thinking about the picture that started all of this mess as they huddle outside the sports arena.

He catches Atsumu from far away— he has a white shirt on, black slacks that shows off his muscular legs and a striped dark red tie. He's talking to his parents, looking at peace with them.

" _Sabrina Chen._ "

He claps and whoops as girls shriek how much they love her. On stage, Sabrina blushes and shakes hands with their principle, posing for pictures before walking off.

His phone buzzes. Akaashi is lamenting the fact that his last name starts with A and he has to sit here for the rest of the ceremony. Sakusa sends him a laughing emoji, discreetly letting his thoughts drift as he hears his classmates being called up front throughout the hour.

" _Atsumu Miya_."

He grins in the dark, seeing Atsumu nearly stumble on stage as the lacrosse team hollers and cheers for their captain. The overhead speakers announces to the audience of Atsumu's captaincy and their school team winning a district banner.

Osamu receives the same amount of noise from his basketball team, grinning into audience. Atsumu doesn't immediately sit down right away, waiting by the stage so both twins walk down to applauses as they disappear back into the seats.

When it's nearly his turn, he stands, lining up off stage and wondering if he could catch his family in the crowd. He tries squinting. No, there are too many people and the stage lights prevents him from seeing individual faces.

" _Kiyoomi Sakusa._ "

He jumps when an airhorn blasts, watching the staff on stage flinch and wince at the sudden noise. The principle immediately throws a glare towards the students as several people laugh, the Miya twins standing up in their seats and whooping.

"Put that air horn away, Mr. Miya," Their principles says briefly into the microphone. Sakusa is laughing, catching Atsumu's blond hair ducking in embarrassment.

It's a bloodbath for last minute pictures when they emerge out of the arena, the sun starting to set. He has dinner with orchestra members afterwards at a restaurant Anderson booked on their behalf, trying to find Sabrina in the throng of people so he can drive her.

His sisters find him first, sanitizing their hands before hugging him tightly with watery eyes. Naomi whips out a bouquet of flowers from behind her back, blubbering about how he's all grown up now. They ask a random parent standing nearby to take a family picture with the five of them leaning together, grinning.

"You have dinner right?" Hiromi bounces as his family releases their hold on him.

"Yeah—"

"Hey," Suna hip checks him, winking as the basketball team passes by them on their way to the parking lot, "Basketball at my place this Sunday?"

"Sure."

"Sweet!" Osamu wraps an arm around Suna's waist, waving. Sakusa waves back at him, "See you! Goodbye, Sakusa's sisters and Papa Sakusa!"

"Have fun at dinner!" Hiromi chirps, spinning around and waving to Sunny, who's shrieking about how much she misses her.

"No driving under the influence," His father reminds him. Sakusa nods, already taken his hat off and passing off the twenty or so bobby pins to Hiromi earlier. He cradles the flowers in his arms, "Get home safely."

"Okay," He waves, watching his family walk away and Hiromi chasing after them with promises of hanging out with Sunny in the upcoming days. He turns in search for Sabrina, knowing it'll take some time since her hair blends into the gowns and well. She's short.

Not that he'll ever say that to her face.

"Hey, got a minute?"

Sakusa turns around, surprised, as Atsumu quirks an uneven smile at him. His hat is in his hand, his bangs pushed back.

"Sorry 'bout the air horn," Atsumu grins, looking not sorry at all. Sakusa looks behind him, seeing several members of the senior lacrosse team impatiently tap their feet near the parking lot, waiting for their captain, "Did I scare ya?"

"It's fine."

"You're not in a hurry right?"

Sakusa pulls out his phone. Sabrina was _supposed_ to reply to his text but she's conveniently missing, interesting.

"I have a few minutes to spare," He slouches, relaxing his shoulders.

“Take a walk with me?”

Sakusa obliges. The sports rink has a trail around the front of the arena where a row of hedges and bushes have been planted next to a flagpole. He sets a pace, Atsumu trailing half a step behind. Sakusa looks down at his dress shoes, wondering if they’re new.

The skies are cotton candy pink and purple. Sunset hour has arrived. He's distracted for a minute, looking at how wide the sky is, how the colors bleeds from pink and orange around the setting sun and shifts to purples and indigos on the opposite side of the horizon.

Atsumu opens his mouth. Sakusa listens.

It’s simple, see.

A long, long time ago, a boy fell in love and got his heart shattered. Stomped on. Broken.

He vowed to never give himself fully to another person, never getting too attached, always declining the possibility of a relationship like someone who'd been burned once until he saw a boy on stage who'd cut his cheek.

Even if the pretense of their relationship was false, he truly fell for him. But insecurity reared its head and the boy, a coward, broke it off and ran away. The moment he did though, he immediately began to regret it.

It took some time, but the boy wanted to change and sought out the girl that broke his heart. They spoke for days after their parents have gone to sleep, re-opening old wounds and coming to school with red eyes, unable to focus in classes. For the first time in years, he told her how badly he reacted to their break up.

She apologized for not giving him the closure he needed. He apologized too, for acting how he acted.

“Why did you do it?” Sakusa says, taking their ninth lap around the arena. The lacrosse team is still dutifully waiting for their captain, sitting on the curb with Sabrina, who had taken off her heels and is giving Sakusa a tired smile, resting her bare feet on the pavement.

Sabrina and Osamu had been helping him talk it out for the past month, though everything they said were what Atsumu knew he needed to fix.

_"Why are you afraid of commitment?"_

_"'Cause the more people you let into your life, the more that can walk out! Haven't ya thought about how Rin can just break up with up one day? Dust himself off and pretend you two never shared something?"_

_"...Was it 'cause Sab left you?"_

_"...I dunno. Probably."_

Atsumu spoke to a counselor twice. On the first visit, he deflected the questions for the entire fifty minutes he paid for and allowed Osamu to drive him home.

The second visit was better. The counselor confirmed what Atsumu already knew.

"I don’t wanna hurt people anymore,” Atsumu lets out a big sigh, like he's admitting something, “I don’t want to be this type of person, I wanna change.”

Sakusa looks down at his feet, not knowing what to say, “I see.”

“So I’ve…been thinking,” Atsumu’s voice is soft. Sakusa watches the wind play with his hair, the last few rays of the sun fading away from his cheekbones, the shadows from the lamp near the flagpole making the shadows of his lashes long, “…Yale and Juilliard are only an hour and a half apart on a good traffic day, I wanna give us a proper try this time if yer still interested.”

He looks up, meeting Sakusa's eyes.  
  


  
  
_12 years later_

“What?”

Sakusa blinks once and repeats himself, pulling himself out of where he'd been answering questions on autopilot and making hook shapes with his left hand. The interviewer blinks, like he’d just promise to breakdance or do something out of character, quickly recovering and wrapping up the interview for the Gramophone.

“Thank you for your time, I hope you could enjoy some of New York before your flight tomorrow evening,” Sakusa says as he stands and gives her a dip of his head.

The poor Gramophone interviewer stumbles through thanking him for his time to sit down with her after his last concert. She nearly head-butts him, shaking his hand with clammy palms and gathers her recording device and papers.

Sakusa goes next door to his own dressing room, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his black dress shirt and shrugging his suit jacket off, zipping it up in a travel bag. It’s the height of summer so he gathers his things quietly, eager to get out of his long sleeves and into his comfortable pyjamas at home.

He almost escapes Carnegie Hall before Roy catches up to him.

“Is it true?” He pants. Sakusa squirts a dollop of hand sanitizer on his palms and lets the scent of aloe and peaches waft in the tiny service hallway that’s barely wide enough to fit his shoulders.

Roy is the manager of all things Sakusa does worldwide— world tours, orchestra tours, private bookings, and masterclasses; wherever he wants to go, Roy will get him the accommodations sorted out and people there.

He would normally have a dinner party with his tour team since this is the last concert of his North American leg, but there’s something special he has to do tonight. And besides, he already arranged for a staff dinner yesterday.

“Is what true?”

Roy sweats, nearly biting his tongue off as he hurries to catch up to Sakusa’s long legs, “Surely you’re not retiring this early? The Gramophone interviewer will still be here until tomorrow evening, we can invite her to come back and adjust your statement. I know for a fact that there’s a list of emails in my inbox from various orchestras and conductors around the world who’d love to perform with you again.”

Sakusa’s mouth quirks up, pushing on the fire escape door with his elbows as a flood of muggy summer heat snakes inwards. He turns, “You know what they say about eavesdroppers. I’ll contact you if I’m planning something.”

“Mr. Sakusa,” Roy shifts, pleading, “You can’t retire now.”

“Thank you, Roy,” He says in a light, professional tone.

Roy sighs, realizing that he can’t change Sakusa’s mind once he’s in this mood. He nods as he holds the fire escape door open, “Have a safe trip home then. The encore tonight was excellent.”

“Of course, get home safely as well,” He steps out into the streets of New York, setting off for 7th Avenue. He goes down a set of stairs into the subway and tries to slouch, blending in with people waiting for trains.

He gets recognized by concert goers but they all seem to realize he’s tired, giving him ample space and only smiling in his direction when he accidentally meets their eyes.

Sakusa enters the train and stands, his violin case hugged against his chest as he tries not to hit his head against the subway map above the door. He’s learnt an impressive technique of sleeping while standing up during his years of schooling here, and he does it now, jerking himself awake to adjust to the wobbling train every now and then.

He seems to be nodding off when his phone buzzes. Sakusa hurriedly digs into his violin case to fish his earbuds out.

“Hello?”

“ _Is it really true_ ,” Sabrina says in lieu of a greeting. He can hear the TV run in the background before it’s abruptly muted, “ _That you’re retiring?_ ”

“How did you find out so quickly?”

She just about weeps, “ _We were supposed to play in the Lincoln Center together next season! Roy contacted my manager who contacted me! Thanks for giving me the heads up, Kiyoomi!_ ”

“…Right,” He admits, stepping out of the train at Atlantic Avenue and going up. He crosses the street, goes down another tunnel and waits for the Eastern Parkway Line, “I never said I was _retiring_ retiring. My exact words to him and the Gramophone interviewer was that I’m taking a break. A much needed one when she asked for my plans next year. You already knew I wasn't planning on playing next season.”

" _The Lincoln Center,_ " She protests, " _Weren't you looking at joining the Chicago Symphony on their tour?_ "

"Asides from that."

“… _I thought you liked touring. Visiting different cities and going to museums, immersing yourself in the culture and making surprise appearances at our colleague's concerts. When I joined you in Europe that was pretty fun, me popping out of stage_.”

It _had_ been fun to sneak her into Salle Pleyel, seeing the surprise on his staff’s faces as she slipped out of the curtains and joined him onstage for an encore, launching naturally into a duet they practiced twelve years ago in the sunny orchestra room of their high school.

He looks down at his hands, steadying himself as the train wobbles to a stop. The callouses are thick and his nails are clipped short. He emerges from Norstrand Avenue and spots a Dunkin Donuts as he goes up the stairs and gets back onto street level.

Sakusa never felt so relieved when the last leg of his world tour finished in New York. Sure, taking the subway meant that he had to be at Carnegie earlier because ditching chauffeur service for saving the earth sounded like a good option when he gave Roy the details of his New York concerts, but he now quickens his pace, seeing the familiar neighborhood he calls home appear.

_Home_ , home, to be exact.

“ _Is your wrist bothering you again?_ ” Sabrina fusses, " _I thought the surgery and hand therapy fixed it. There's a girl in the Bronx area who's really good—_ "

“No, I'm fine. And a break isn’t a death sentence,” He points out, “I’m getting tired of living out of suitcases, believe it or not.”

Just like his dad predicted— parents seem to know best sometimes. He’d always supply Sakusa with endless vitamins, antihistamine and over the counter medication every time he came back home ragged with colds that never go away since running around the world, not sleeping very much as he practices in the privacy of his hotel room and living in airports seem to have a way of messing up his immune system.

He smiles, knowing Sabrina can’t see it as he turns a corner, the gentle whooshing of cars going past fading away.

“ _Why?_ ”

He thinks of Osamu, “Do we need a reason for a break?”

" _No, I suppose not_."

There are residential buildings here. Five, six-storied apartments with classic red bricks and black fire escape ladders above him, the rare houses surrounded by trees older than his father, a park with several people hanging around, dogs barking, that he takes in with his eyes.

Then his shoes comes to a stop in front of an off-white, four-story building, golden light spilling out of the open windows.

From them, he hears little peeks into people’s lives, the run of a reporter summarizing the 9 o’clock news, someone singing, the steady beat of an EDM mix, the shadows dancing on the walls, a cat curiously looking down at him from the window ledge.

He hears Sabrina sigh, scanning his fob key against the sensor and slipping inside.

“You’re not without any friends," He reminds her, "You can go on tour with Ellie."

“ _But it won't be the same_.”

He inserts his key and twists, opening the front door and seeing Sabrina stand in front of the television, jiggling his daughter in his arms as she speaks to him through her earbuds, the strings dangling down.

Sakusa pulls off his earbuds, speaking to her directly, “I know, but I don’t want to tour anymore.”

Sabrina, her long black hair tied into a sloppy bun drooping at the base of her skull, scoffs as she makes her way over to him. The baby girl, with her curly black hair sticking up in tufts, wispy eyebrows and pout, look like an exact copy of him, no surprises considering he and his siblings all look very similar to their mother, “That was quick.”

He shrugs off his coat and places his violin in the corner of the living room to be put away later, “I speed walk.”

“Tall people don’t appreciate their short-legged friends,” The corner of Sabrina’s mouth tugs upward, her eyes lost in a distant memory as she automatically follows him to the bathroom where he’s rubbing soap into every nook and cranny of his palms.

He reaches for Aomi when he finishes wiping his hands dry, pressing a kiss against her round cheeks.

“I have other priorities,” He softly says, sweeping Aomi’s bangs away as she blinks up at him, “Such as her. Priorities where I want to slow down and take things day by day.”

Because he’d always been running without a break for most of his life— chasing for music, world tours, appearances at multiple orchestras, and filling up the pages of his passport like a good professional musician.

The realization that he wanted to take a break had probably taken root ages ago, but he hadn’t noticed it until his wrist had started throbbing lightly during the interview, and when the Gramophone lady asked what his next steps were after his world tour wrapped up here in New York, he’d easily replied.

He will cancel the Lincoln Center shows and then go on a break.

Sabrina looks around the living room. It has white walls, an L-shaped couch pushed back against the window, a giant rug from Morocco he hauled back, several knick-knacks from other countries, various pictures hung up of the wall of his wedding and vacations taken throughout the years.

He watches as her mouths softens, looking up at the photos hung up on the wall, “Is this a delayed quarter life crisis?”

He huffs out a laugh, “Sure.”

“Well,” She hums, “I guess I kinda get it. The want to slow down, a reprieve.”

Sabrina never wanted to settle down until recently. Even so, she’s still chasing for her own dreams in ways that makes Sakusa want to keep up with her because they've always done that during their Juilliard days, learning concertos after concertos and seeing each other as friendly rivals. 

But he has to stop himself and ask if he’s only chasing her because he doesn’t know where to go next in life or if he really wants to keep up with her.

How nuanced that she chased him throughout their high school years and here he is, trying not to get caught up in her current.

“You won’t miss me, I’m sure."

“The world will miss you, _I_ will miss running away from my manager to hop onto impromptu flights so we can meet up in random cities.”

“Don’t speak to me as if you’re also not semi-retired from tours, Assistant _Professor_ Chen.”

Sabrina turns pink, slapping her cheeks, “Agh! Stop, that just sounds so weird! Do you think twenty-nine is too young to be an assistant professor? Will they even listen to me?”

“That’s your problem.”

“Hilarious,” She shoots him a flat look before sighing, “Three world tours, two albums, a mini album releasing soon, a three bed condo in Brooklyn freaking heights— which, _spill_ , how did you get such a good deal— a baby girl, what’s next, Sakusa?”

“This condo was an accident, everything else is from effort,” He watches her roll her eyes as she goes to a chair in the corner, picking up her tote bag, “Can I call a cab for you?”

“Nah,” She brushes it away and hops up to Aomi, cooing at her, “I don’t mind missing the first few minutes of the game to walk. Need to stretch my legs for a bit anyway. _Bye-bye Mimi!_ ”

"Thanks for being available on such short notice. And on your day off too."

"Yeah, next time you should make a nanny your first priority on your concerts instead of turning down chauffeur services," She teases him.

He grumbles, remembering the panic he had when he snapped out of his nap and realized that his father was merrily on his way across the country and he had to be out of the door in half an hour for his last concert, "I'd ask my dad, but he's flying back to the west coast for a coworker's retirement dinner and Hitomi's vacationing in Montauk with her family."

"Just teasing you," Sabrina says, already at the door as Sakusa follows her. Just after she slides her shoes on, she halts, turning around and tilting her head slightly, "You won't miss music at all?"

"Someone once told me that I could take back my words."

"Touché," She grins, blowing one last kiss to Aomi. Sakusa holds onto her little arm to mock a wave at his longtime friend, "Anyway, since I know we'll be staying up tonight to watch the game, brunch tomorrow?"

"Of course. You don't mind if she comes right?"

She rolls her eyes, "Of _course_ Aomi is welcome. I've let her puke on me many times okay, I'm down with her puking on me more. It's cool, Sakusa. Anyway, I'm cheering for Canada!"

"You're an American citizen!" He tells her as she prances through the door and dances away, throwing him a final smile.

When the door is shut, he looks down at his daughter and kisses her forehead, going to the TV and unmuting it.

"— _tain and who will be facing off today in the finals._ _An exciting turn of events as the United States once again faces off against Canada here in Melbourne, Australia._ "

His phone buzzes.

Sabrina [10:03]: get a teaching degree and terrorize the students with me at juilliard  
Sabrina [10:03]: wouldn't it be fun?  
Sabrina [10:03]: you, me, lucas and soomin as faculty

He looks towards his right where his daughter had stuffed a plush carrot Hiromi knitted in her mouth, watching the TV screen intently with her pacifier sitting beside her, abandoned. Sakusa reaches out and smooths her bangs that had fallen out of her colorful clips away.

Aomi swivels her head and smiles at him, babbling.

Sakusa feels his mouth move into a grin.

There's no rush. He's lucky that he has a comfortable amount of savings, a grumpy nine month old that will keep his hands busy for the foreseeable future, a roof over his head and a fridge full of food. His father retired recently and lives half an hour away and loves to play doting grandfather to both Aomi and Hitomi's son.

There will be time in the future to figure it out. Perhaps he _could_ go into teaching and terrorize the students with Sabrina. Teaching is something he's familiar with, having done that many times throughout his life from math tutoring lessons to masterclasses around the world.

But it's also okay to not know the next step because life always seems to work itself out if he leaves it alone. It did for him twelve or so years ago, anyway. It's okay for him to pursue something that's unexpected of him. He longs to do something different.

"Ooooh. Shaaaaa," Aomi babbles. There's already a mole on one side of her cheek, a fainter one showing up next to it. Her eyes follows his wedding band swaying on a chain that slipped out of his dress shirt, "Tooo?"

"Oh?" He asks, tilting his head, feeling a rush of affection for the little girl. Aomi pouts angrily, jutting out her bottom lip before repeating her ooos again, "What is it, Micchan?"

Maybe being a stay at home dad for a bit would work; he could go to night classes for a teaching degree and take care of her in the daytime. He understands his father now, the want to be as hands on as possible, to not miss a single minute of her growing up.

On the television screen, a certain midfielder in white breaks away from the clump of players, sprinting for the opponent's goal. 

Sakusa sits up, drawing Aomi to his lap as he watches the game intently. He smirks as the player who landed a goal rolls over from where he stumbled on the field, his helmet slipping off to reveal a shock of pale blond hair, so unlike the piss blond he proudly had in high school.

Aomi happily makes grabby hands at the screen, twisting her head as she blinks her amber eyes, loudly announcing, " _Oto-sha!_ "

The cameras pick up Atsumu being tugged to his feet as he jams his helmet back on, jogging to the other end of the field. Sakusa laughs, drawing her close and feeling her warm weight on his lap, fond, "It's _O-tou-san_ , Micchan, can you repeat that?"

" _To-sha!_ "  
  
  
  
  
 _"Omi! We won! Did you see? We won!!"_

_"Of course I saw. You won, by the way."_

_"Huh? Sorry it's so loud here, yeah! I know! USA won gold again!"_

_"No, silly. Here, I'll send the video. She said 'otou-san' first."_ _  
__  
_

[The first picture: a faded, round-edged photograph of four siblings with black hair holding chalkboards has 'Miya Kiyoomi' scrawled in a smear of blue ballpoint ink pointing to the youngest and only boy. The second picture: a man with dark curls has his arm around a blond man with two suitcases beside him, holding up a baby girl, the blue ribbon of a World Lacrosse Championship medal visible around her neck as they stand around the arrivals area. Both are smiling.]

> Liked by **sabchen** and **others**  
>  **s_yomi** happy
> 
> View all 1259 comments  
>  **bokhoot** QQ move to LA so our kids can play together. koji and miwa are lonely  
>  **sabchen** 😭  
>  **atsumu_m** !! did you make a 'how it started vs how its going' meme? i'm so proud. my husband everyone 👏👏  
>  **osamu_m** we know u've been married for 4 years, we get it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (deleted scene between atsumu and osamu— a text message)  
> bitch [13:01]: how do u write your daughter's name again  
> Me [13:01]: ??? u forgot? u've officially relinquished ur rights as her uncle  
> bitch [13:01]: ur so fucking annoying, HURRY UP i don't have all day to figure it out  
> Me [13:01]: 碧美  
> Me [13:01]: don't judge or say anything or i swear to god
> 
> bitch [14:37]: LMAOOOO  
> bitch [14:37]: ur such a loser how am i related to you
> 
> Me [14:57]: i hate u
> 
> special thanks to immune for the occupational hand therapy/sakusa's wrist parts. and also cheering me on as i rewrote the epilogue 18 times because none of them satisfied me. you have the patience of a saint.
> 
> ah the fic is finished huh? it feels like ive lost a little bit of myself, like when you finished watching/reading a very good series and you're just sitting back, empty, but in a good way, of course, from all the kind comments and love people have for these versions of atsumu and sakusa. thank you for reading this far.
> 
> atsumu, as we saw, is currently in melbourne, australia for the lacrosse world championship, hence auntie sabrina acting as last minute baby sitter. sakusa has just announced his break from the music world to focus on his family/raising his daughter and has a home in NYC with atsumu. sabrina lives in the city and will be the assistant professor of violin for the upcoming fall semester at juilliard.
> 
> eventually, sakusa will return to music to teach the violin. his days of touring are over i think, because life on the road is tough. atsumu eventually will retire from lacrosse and probably become a coach at a school?
> 
> anyways, ive rambled on enough. thank you for sticking with me in this giant 50K+ AU!
> 
> (have you gotten your flu shots?)

**Author's Note:**

> henlo friedns, pls continue to wash your hands properly and continue to wear facial coverings in public.
> 
> please drink responsibly, always have a designated driver if you're going out. and pls dont do drugs


End file.
